


All That I Have

by Swordsoul2000



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Identity Porn, Mission Fic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Identity, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WIP, canon character death, hopefully
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14131641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordsoul2000/pseuds/Swordsoul2000
Summary: When she was sixteen, Jyn Erso found a message from her mentor, telling her that the Erso name was getting too hot, and for both her protection, and that of the Cadre's, he was leaving her behind.Several years later, Cassian Andor travels to the planet Vallt to gain the assistance of Rebel Organizer Tanith Ponta, regarding the matter of a certain vanished cargo pilot...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> so, this has been something that I've been working on, off and on, since shortly after Rogue One came out, and while I have assorted scenes written that cover nearly the full breast of the film, this is the first complete unit of story that I've been able to assemble. I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to plead for feedback, because while it's still coming, my enthusiasm for this is starting to run low. 
> 
> This fic was sparked by three ideas: 1) the shocking lack of identity porn fics in a fandom with as many canon aliases as Rogue One, 2) the fierce desire to make Cassian eat his words in the post Eadu fight, and 3) the discovery in the Rogue One Novilization that when Jyn was extracted from Wobani, she was far more frightened of ending up in Rebel hands than Imperial ones. 
> 
> the poem the title is taken from, will be in the end notes

Cassian Andor leaned against a tree and looked over the snowy landscape. To the casual eye, this particular corner of Vallt’s northern continent looked just like any other on this section of the planet. Yet somewhere in the near vicinity there was a rebel cell that he was trying to contact, if he could only discover where they were. 

Steadying his macrobinoculars on a handy branch, Cassian focused the lenses on one of the nearby rock formations. Could this be it? One particular spire caught his eye, was it just a little too regular under its coat of snow and ice? There was no way to tell, short of hailing those he was trying to reach on an open channel.

Well, maybe one way. Cassian fumbled with his comlink, cursing the low temperatures that made fiddling with the small device more difficult than normal. “Kay, am I close?” he asked in a near whisper, well aware that sound traveled surprising distances in such surroundings. 

“You are within 15.75 meters of your destination.” Came the droid’s precise tones over the comlink. Cassian internally winced, because K-2SO was not being nearly so careful with his volume, and Cassian couldn’t fiddle with the controls through his thick gloves. “I’m afraid I cannot be more precise than that. The kemosite ore in the nearby mountains is still scrambling my sensors.”

“Likely why Ponta chose this particular spot, out of all the remote caves available on this planet,” Cassian agreed. His head jerked to the right, his attention caught by a strange shadow moving through the trees. “Assuming that the coordinates she provided to command are accurate.”

“There is a 36.45% chance that they are not.” Kay agreed, following Cassian’s train of thought easily enough. “Relations between General Draven and Tanith Ponta are…”

“Strained, I know.” The shadow turned out to be one of the native quadrupeds with multiple heads, disconcerting, but non-sentient. Not a threat. “Ponta wants to be left alone to do her work here, while Draven wants to draw her further into the hierarchy. At the very least, he wants a face-to-face to get a read on her, and she keeps putting him off. Now she doesn’t have a choice.”

“The Alliance Charter does state…” Kay began. 

“That individual cell leaders have the discretion to lead operations as they see fit,” Cassian agreed, “But the time is coming fast where every cell is going to have  to either fall in line, or be left behind. Saw Gerrera was only the start of it, and if Tanith Ponta isn’t careful, she’s going to be forced out just like her mentor.”

It wasn’t as if he didn’t respect Tanith Ponta, he did. Not everyone could recruit and lead their own rebel cell before the age of twenty, but she had done it. Saw Gerrera had personally vouched for her, calling her his best soldier, and most able lieutenant before she had gone off on her own, and no one in the Alliance had ever doubted the caliber of the soldiers he trained. The fact that she’d been operating for years completely without support from any of the other cells was another mark of her quality, and her resourcefulness. Vaguely Cassian recalled a line from her file that indicated that Organa had made overtures to her shortly after Saw’s removal, but something unspecified had happened during the initial contact that only resulted in Ponta withdrawing further into herself. 

But for all of that, the stigma of being Saw’s disciple remained, for all that Alliance Intelligence had discovered no contact between Ponta and Saw since the Partisan leader had forcibly cut ties with the Alliance. The fact that Ponta had never once set foot on the Yavin base, nor any other to the best of Cassian’s knowledge, didn’t help in the slightest. The longer this went on, the more her self-imposed isolation appeared to be a threat to the safety and security of the Alliance as a whole, for all that Draven couldn’t identify what it was on Vallt that kept her so occupied. 

Cassian was abruptly jolted from his musings, when a nearby snowbank seemed to come alive and three forms whom Cassian would have sworn hadn't been there a second ago, pounced on him before he could so much as drop his comlink or draw his blaster. He tried to fight, but was hampered by his cold-weather gear and the snow, while his assailants seemed to move through it as easily as breathing. Within seconds he was overcome, trussed up like a shaak ready for the spit, his gear spread out over the snow for inspection. Cassian found that he was almost grateful for the cold shock of the snow against his abruptly-uncovered forehead, he’d been criminally stupid by allowing himself to be distracted by his conversation with Kay, and now it was an open question whether or not he’d survive the next few minutes. 

The two smaller and bulkier shapes - who Cassian belatedly recognized as Valltii men in their traditional garb - were going over Cassian’s gear with a fine-toothed comb, checking and double checking his belongings with a scanner doubtless meant to detect trackers, or anything with a transmitter. Given that his pre-op research had informed him that the Empire had banned traditional dress, anyone who was caught wearing it was very nearly a Rebel by default. Even if they didn’t report directly to Ponta, they’d know who did, and could take him to her.

The third stood guard, blaster at the ready, aim never once wavering from Cassian’s forehead. She – and Cassian was just assuming she was female thanks to her slighter build – wore the same traditional Valltii gear as the men, minus the hat and instead her face was so shrouded by scarves wrapped around her head that nothing of her features could be seen. From her body language, Cassian thought she was in charge, there was an unconscious deference in how the men spoke to her, though try as he might, Cassian didn't understand the language.  

Not being fluent in the local dialect didn't prevent him from reacting when they scanned his comlink. His open comlink, which had been transmitting to K2 all this while. “Don't shoot, please!” he called out, twisting to sit up despite the fact that his arms were still firmly secured behind him. He could only hope they spoke Basic. “It's just my droid, I was in contact with him before I met you –“

“Why are you here, spy?” one of the men growled in the same language, all three blasters pointed unerringly at his vitals.

“I'm Cassian Andor, Rebel Intelligence.” Cassian said as steadily as he could, telling his heart rate to slow down, he wasn't in Imperial hands, he could give out his real name and affiliation without fear of being compromised. “I'm here on orders from General Draven, he wants a meeting with Tanith Ponta.”

Both men snarled, and were about to fire when the female held up one hand. Cassian noted with a touch of hysteria that he'd been right about her being in charge, as the men subsided instantly, lowering their blasters fractionally. “Why would Draven send someone in person?” she asked suspiciously. “He communicates just fine over the holo.”

Draven, Cassian thought wryly, would disagree with that statement. “This isn’t something that would trust to a holonet connection, no matter how secure. It’s far too important to risk.”

“Like what?” she challenged him, tone haughty and faintly tinged with the Core. Not a local then, but an outsider who shared the local dangers. His odds of finding Ponta had just gone up. 

“A mission, one that he needs her help on.” 

“Here on Vallt?” now her tone was openly scornful. 

“No,” Cassian said softly, eyes fixed on the slit in her wrappings that had to be where her eyes were. “Offworld.” Intelligence had placed Saw's latest operations on Jedha, and the defecting pilot Tivik had told him about had disappeared there as well. That made it the logical next step in the mission, a stepping stone to wherever in the galaxy Galen Erso had sequestered himself.  

“And the reason she should care?”

“It’s a mission vital to the survival of the Alliance as an organization,” Cassian burst out. He was getting tired of this mess. “And that’s my final word on the subject before I see Ponta.” 

The female watched him for a moment, cocking her head to the side in thought. Then she nodded to herself, holstered her blaster, then hauled him bodily up out of the snow with a single pull. A flick of a vibroknife, and his hands were free, a quick dip and the bonds around his feet were cut as well.  An unintelligible word, and his comlink was slapped back into his stinging palm none-to-gently. 

“Call your droid,” the man muttered, watching Cassian closely as his partner gathered Cassian’s gear into a local satchel for transport. Cassian, for lack of anything better to do, obeyed. 

“Kay, are you there?” 

“Cassian, I have been attempting to reach you for the last 3.75 standard minutes.” K2 said stridently, in a tone that suggested that he truly had been worried. “What has happened? You were cut off rather suddenly.”

“What happened is that I spooked one of Ponta's patrols.” Cassian explained. With a glance at the men standing just a little too close, blasters at the ready, he continued. “It might be a bit before we hash everything out, why don't you go over the hyperdrive again while you wait. You know I wasn't happy with that last jump.”

Both he and K2 knew that the hyperdrive was working perfectly. It was a code, letting K2 know that he was having some trouble with the locals, but things were mostly stable. If his reception had been friendly, he would have asked K2 to check on the stabilizers, the navicomputer if they had proved hostile and he needed an immediate evacuation. It was a simple code, but one that was remarkably sturdy thanks to general knowledge of droids, and the kinds of conversations that sentients were expected to have with them. If there truly had been a mechanical issue, he would have addressed it with K2 before he left the ship. Still, he tried not to use it too often. 

“Understood.” K2 said, signing off. He'd check back in in thirty minutes with a “repair summary,” at which point Cassian would give him another job to indicate whether things were still tense, or if the situation had changed, for good or ill.

That done, Cassian clicked off the device and ostentatiously proffered it to the man who had taken custody of his gear. “I assume that...” Wordlessly, the man grabbed it out of his hand, stuffing it away in his pack while his partner moved behind Cassian with a length of dark cloth.

Cassian bit back the instinctive protest that wanted to rise in his throat. Given that his hands were still unbound, a blindfold was getting off lightly, and Ponta was likely too paranoid to let someone she didn't know see how to access her base. Sure enough, he shortly heard the quiet beeps of a keypad, the almost inaudible hiss of hydraulics, and felt a shove to the center of his shoulder blades to get him moving in the right direction. A stumble, a grab at his arm to keep him upright, and then they were in marginally warmer surroundings, out of the direct wind and cold. A few dozen twisty turns – some possibly undertaken to keep him off balance and ruin his sense of direction – and the blindfold was pulled off of him, and he got his first look at Tanith Ponta's base.

His first thought was that Tanith Ponta had more people than the Council knew about under her command. The cavern Cassian stood in wasn't small, and yet it teemed with people, mostly Valltii, but with a smattering of other species here and there. There was a Talz in one corner, clearly having just come in from the outdoors given that zhii was rubbing a drying cloth over the white fur that covered zhiir's body. A zabrak was winding a length of cloth over her horns over by a table heaped with outer garments, taking care not to catch and rip it as she did so. A bare handful of humans rounded out the bunch.

But what caught Cassian's attention was that everyone seemed to be moving with purpose, everyone had a task to accomplish and little time to stare at the outsider in their midst. And this was just one cavern of what was undoubtedly a large complex, Cassian could see corridors branching out from several directions, with a constant stream of people coming and going from all of them. In fact, if one ignored the constant chill not chased away by the number of small braziers scattered around the floor, Cassian could almost imagine himself back at Base One.

But he didn't have any more time to stand around and and stare. The leader of the patrol who had captured him barked a terse order in the Valltii language, and Cassian was taken by an arm and tugged down a passageway by one of the men, not the one who had taken charge of his gear unfortunately. All he saw of the leader as he glanced back over his shoulder was a quick glimpse of pink human skin as she tugged off her first pair of gloves and tossed them on the pile of outer garments, before reaching up to the scarves swathing her head. Then he was yanked around first one corner, then another, and finally shoved into an out-of-the way cave, one that was likely used for storage to judge by the crates and racks of shelving that were scattered around the room.

“You will wait here.” his escort said simply, taking up a guard position at the door. “Tanith will see you soon.”

“How soon?” Cassian wanted to know. The situation with the pilot was time-sensitive, the sooner they found him, the better. Saw Gerrera wasn't known for his mercy, and Cassian needed the pilot to still be coherent enough to talk.

“Soon.” his guard promised, his blue features set. Cassian took a seat on one of the crates, trying to relax as much as possible. It was tempting to tense up, to let the uncertainty of the situation get to him. But if there was one virtue cultivated by spies, it was patience. All he could do now was wait.

Of course, that didn't mean he had to wait quietly. “What's happening to my gear?” he asked.

The other man shrugged. “It's being taken to analysis. You'll get it back once we've determined that it's no threat to us.”

“You already scanned it,” Cassian pointed out. “Back out in the snow. What more do you need to know?”

His guard grinned, flashing pointed teeth in a predatory grin. “That was just a quick scan to be sure there were no trackers. There might be any number of surprises left in store for us to discover at an inopportune moment.”

“The fact that we're on the same side doesn't sway you at all?” Cassian tried.

“If we're on the same side, then tell me why we only hear from your people when you need something.” something dark flashed in his escort's pale yellow eyes. “When we need an assist, supplies, or simply extra credits to survive out here, you never come through for us. And still you look on us with suspicion.”

“I'd like to hear the answer to that myself.” came a female voice from the corridor. Standing in the doorway, dressed in a mix of leathers and local furs, had to be Tanith Ponta herself. She was shorter than Cassian had expected, only an inch or so taller than his escort, who was a nearly a full head shorter than Cassian himself. Human, with mid-length brown hair tied neatly in a knot at the nape of her neck and green eyes set into a surprisingly delicate face, she radiated a force of personality akin to a small star system, more than enough to gather and control the people Cassian had seen in the main room.

And her voice... Cassian narrowed his eyes. He'd heard that voice before, he was sure of it. Recently. Since it wasn't immediately coming to mind, Cassian thrust it from his thoughts, the better to focus in on what was doubtlessly going to be a tense negotiation.

Immediately, he put on a winning smile, trying to charm her into trusting him. “I'm Cassian Andor, Rebel Intelligence.” he said in a voice that had won information from scores of potential assets time and time again, most times without their knowledge of just what they were sharing with the soft-voiced stranger. “General Draven sent me –“

Tanith put up a hand, cutting him off. “I know who you are.” she said shortly. Her eyes roved over his form, lingering on his face, before lighting up in recognition. “Joreth Sward.” she crowed in evident triumph. “I thought it was you.”

Cassian was confused. Sward was one of his most well-established covers, and one that had yet to be compromised. “I'm sorry?” he tried, mind scrambling to catch up. “You must have me mistaken with someone else.”

“Don't bother trying to deny it.” Ponta had a smirk on her face, clearly enjoying seeing him act so flat-footed. “Draven occasionally deigns to call me up, asking if I can cook up some scandocs for his operatives. I'm the best forger in the Alliance, and Draven knows it. He gives me vital details and a holosnap of the agent in question, I give him a new identity.” her eyes hardened, becoming flinty chips of green stone. “Only after he delivers my fee.”

“You charge him?” Cassian was incredulous. A crucial part of the Alliance charter said that each cell would assist the others as needed. It was one of the few clauses that held the contentious partnership together.

“When it's one the few sources of income I get to maintain operations here?” Tanith snapped. “You're kriffing right I charge him. Not all of us are Viceroy Organa, financing his cells with the royal treasury of Alderaan! Food, bacta, fuel, spare parts, blasters, all of them cost credits, and I have my people to look after.” Her voice took on a sneering tone. “It's not as if the Council will allot a stipend for rogue cells like mine, not when there are much more important cells closer to the Core.”

It could look like that, Cassian acknowledged to himself, at least from her perspective. No representative on the Council meant no voice when it came to the resource allocations that were the single leading cause of tensions between the loose conglomeration of desperate causes that was the Alliance. While Saw had still been part of the Alliance, he’d spoken on Ponta’s behalf, but now that he was gone, that meant that there was no one to insist that she received the materiel she needed to keep fighting. And yet she’d found a way anyway. His respect for her bumped up a notch. 

“Draven is well aware of your resourcefulness,” Cassian said soothingly, trying to calm her down before she dismissed his request out of hand. “That’s one of the reasons I’ve come here. He needs your help on an important mission.”

“So you told my sentries.” Ponta wasn’t giving an inch. “What is it?”

Cassian took a breath to consider his options. On one hand, Saw Gerrera had trained Ponta, and vouched for her in the Council. On the other hand, the man had left her high and dry when he’d severed ties with the High Command, never even giving her the opportunity to follow him as many on the Council had whispered she might. 

“How long has it been since you were in contact with Saw Gerrera?” Cassian found himself asking. It was a stupid question, but one that would tell him a lot in the way she chose to answer it. 

Tanith cocked her head at him, considering, as one surprisingly delicate eyebrow crept up her forehead. “Three years.” she answered shortly, a faint undercurrent of bitterness creeping into her voice. 

So, around the same time Saw had cut ties with the Alliance as a whole. “Did he tell you what he’d had planned?” 

“I found out when the regular supply dump didn’t arrive,” she shot back. “First concrete information I had that it simply wasn’t later than usual was when Organa sent his daughter to look down her perfect nose at us, and ask if I was going to sell out to her.”

Cassian winced, and let her see it, hoping that she’d take the expression as a sign of sympathy. Leaving aside the issue of precisely what happened  between Ponta and the Princess Leia, it appeared that Saw hadn’t had the courtesy to tip Tanith off with the fact that he was leaving the Alliance. Nor did it seem that they’d kept open a line of communication like Draven had - in a rare moment of optimism - posited when they’d been brainstorming this op. 

“One more question, if you please,” Cassian asked, praying that she would hear him out, rather than simply getting impatient and shooting him. “While you were with Saw, did you know a girl - about your age, or a little younger - named Jyn Erso?”

Tanith went very still. Clearly the answer was “yes”, or she wouldn’t have reacted that way. “Why do you want to know.”

“Do you know where she is, or if you can contact her?” Cassian pressed. The answer was important, Tivik’s information was explicit about the name the captured Cargo pilot had been bandying about in his search Saw’s forces. 

“Not unless you can contact spirits through the Force,” Tanith’s voice was dry. “Jyn took a hit for me in my last skirmish with Saw. I wouldn’t have made it without her.” her tone steadied and grew harder. “What’s with all the questions?”

Cassian grit his teeth, and told her, knowing that now was the time. “Two days ago, one of my most reliable contacts requested a meet, telling me about a cargo pilot who was defecting from the Empire.”

Tanith gave an exasperated sniff at his words. “Low level defections like that aren't news. Even when they aren't plants, they don't know much of anything.”

“This one does,” Cassian assured her. “From what my contact was able to determine, before he vanished, the pilot was telling everyone who would listen about some new Imperial weapon, bigger than anything they've used before.”

Ponta eyed him, much like Draven would an incomplete report. “How big? What’s the target profile?”

“Planet sized.” Cassian wasn’t sure he believed Tivik’s slightly-hysterical account of the new weapon being a planet-killer -- how could they have missed the Empire constructing something so massive, let alone if such a project was even feasible. But that should be enough to give Ponta the idea what they were up against.

“So why come to me?” It was a good question Cassian knew, but one he couldn't be sure how she would react to it. 

“Because in addition to the information on the weapon, this pilot was seeking out Saw Gerrera specifically. I’m sure you would know better than I would what Saw’s likely reaction would be.”

Tanith thought it over, and gave a theatrical wince in reaction, confirming Cassian's suspicions. “Yeah, that's going to be ugly. So,” she said, switching topics with a speed that nearly made Cassian’s head spin, settling her hands on her slim hips, “You want me to leave my people, travel with you to whichever asscrack of the galaxy Saw’s holed himself up in, and convince him to release custody of the pilot, hopefully while he’s still in good enough  condition to talk.” She crossed her arms,and drummed the fingers of one hand against her opposite elbow, ostentatiously deep in thought.

“Yes,” Cassian confirmed, deliberately pulling down his barriers and letting her see the full force of his honesty. It was all he had to convince her; he hoped it old be enough.

《》《》《》

Jyn Erso had to blink at Draven’s operative in stupefaction. The stupid gumba actually thought the plan had a chance in the Void of succeeding. 

Leaving aside the improbability of Saw keeping the defecting pilot intact enough to question further, there still remained the question of what was to be done with the man after Sward - no, Andor was done  with him, never mind Andor’s ultimate destination.

She ignored the tiny voice inside of her, that whispered that if she went on the mission, she’d be able to see Saw again, would be able to ask why he’d left her behind that second time. She knew the reason the first time, and tried not to hold it against her foster father. The Erso name had been starting to gather entirely too much attention, and giving her the wrong rendezvous coordinates following that last op had been as much for her safety as the Cadre’s. Saw had told her as much in the holomessage he’s left for her in that bunker.

So she’s abandoned the name Jyn Erso, and done her level best to scrub every trace of that identity from the holonet.  Not willing to entirely abandon the fight, she’s come to Vallt, the last place she could conceivably call home, and found there a cause in need of a leader. Once established there, she had reached out to the only man she had ever looked up to, needing his backing to establish her group as the newest cell of the Rebel Alliance. Only for him to vanish on her once again, this time without any explanation, taking her link to High Command with him. 

She'd survived, she always did, even after that disastrous meeting with Organa’s arrogant daughter, though Draven’s infrequent commissions were more necessary than she liked to admit, even to herself. Draven was evidently more aware of that fact than she liked, leveraging that information to be sure she didn’t shoot his operative out of hand, even after he’d blundered right into her patrol. 

Still, Jyn knew intimately how much work had gone into the Sward identity, and just how much Draven had paid for it. Draven only allocated such treasures for his very best agents, which meant that she had to take this report seriously, no matter how much she wanted to send him back to Draven with a stern warning not to waste her time with nonsense again. 

Still, Jyn had questions that needed answering before she blindly ran out on what might still be a fool’s errand. “So, assuming you can get to this pilot while he’s still coherent enough to talk, what's the end-game?”

Andor looked uncomfortable. “My contact gave me indications that one of the main project designers, Dr Galen Erso, is getting ready to flip as well. Naturally, he’s under tighter security than some random pilot. The endgame is to find him, extract him, and hope he has knowledge of any potential weak points built into the weapon that would allow the Alliance to destroy it.” He didn't look like he entirely believed that statement, but made no effort to hide that disbelief from her. 

Jyn felt alternately cold and hot all over, despite her insulating furs. Saw had warned her about this, had told her to bury any trace of her birth identity for just this reason. “That's why you wanted to know about Jyn,” she heard herself say, as if from a long distance, “you wanted her to make her father come quietly.”

“Yes,” at least Andor had the guts to admit it, even if he could have no idea just what he was admitting to. “Since she’s gone, we'll have to find another means of ensuring Dr Erso’s cooperation.”

Jyn mulled that over. From his speech pattern, Andor had evidently accepted her account of the “death” of Jyn Erso without challenge. On the other hand, he was also presuming her presence on the mission as a certainty.  As if there was nothing on her mission docket that couldn't be immediately swept aside in favor of this hair-brained scheme that had more “if’s” than a mountain full of Ithorians.

Still, Jyn couldn’t deny that she was tempted to throw caution to the snows and just go. The projected target profile of the weapon was worrying too, particularly in light of the operation she was planning to launch at the end of the month. If it was real, and the op went according to plan… she shuddered, and didn’t care that Andor could see it. That possibility didn't bare thinking about.

In the end, that was what decided her. “I’ll give word for your equipment to be returned, and hanger coordinates given for your droid to bring your ship in,” she announced, meeting Andor’s startled gaze squarely. “I'll need two standard hours to brief my subordinates and collect supplies. Where is our first destination?”

Andor blinked at her, startled by her abrupt cooperation. Jyn suppressed a smirk at his brief consternation, before he got himself back under control. 

“Saw’s been active on in the moon of Jedha, as far as we can trace his movements. That's also where the pilot was last seen.” 

“Which makes Jedha our first stop.” Jyn nodded slightly to herself, running through what gear she’d need to bring to cope with Jedha’s desert climate. “I’ll send someone to escort you to the hangar when it’s time to leave,” she announced, already moving toward the door. 

“Wait,” Andor called apruptly, checking her progress. Jyn turned back, one brow already arched. The spy was on his feet, looking oddly startled for someone so well trained in guarding his expressions. 

“Just like that?” Andor’s voice was more than a little incredulous. At Jyn’s curious noise, he elaborated, “All it took to gain your assistance was asking you?”

“You’d be surprised by how far treating other sentients as rational beings gets you,” Jyn shot back, goodwill rapidly evaporating. “You’d think a group with so many diplomatically trained members as the Council would be able to understand that without that much trouble.” She knew why that was, of course. The Inner Core and Mid Rim senators who made up the core of the Council considered Saw to be the least rational sentient in the galaxy, and as his former protege, Jyn had been tarred by the same brush. Organa’s abortive attempt to curtail her behavior - without even bothering to investigate her activities! - in exchange for supplies had only solidified that impression with the Rebellion at large. 

“Fair enough,” Andor smiled, soft and easy, and it was only by reminding herself that the man was one of Draven’s top operatives that Jyn kept herself from softening toward it. Such subtle manipulations would be a standard part of his everyday toolkit, and she shouldn’t take such signs of sincerity at face value. 

They watched each other for a long moment in silence, before Jyn remembered that she needed to leave. “Wait here until your escort arrives,” she said in a rush, trying to maintain her composure. “The tunnels are easy to lose yourself in if you don’t know where you’re going.” That was true, but the real reason was that she didn’t want Draven’s representative to have free run of her base. 

Andor nodded, accepting that restriction easily, and Jyn turned to go. “See you then, Andor,” she called as she reached the door.

“It’s Cassian.” Almost in the corridor beyond, Jyn turned around. Andor’s expression was almost painfully earnist, and he’d taken a few steps toward the door as if he wanted to chase after her. At her questioning look, he repeated, “My name. We’re going to be working together. You can call me by my name.”

“Cassian, then,” Jyn relented. “I’ll see you in the hanger.”

As soon as the door was closed, Jyn flattened her back against the cool wall of the tunnel, letting the stone take her weight, and letting the solid sensations do their best to wisk away her worries. It didn't help much, and Jyn found herself to be more than a little greatful that there was no one in this part of the tunnels to see this particular weakness. There had to be an omen in the fact that someone from the Alliance had come asking questions about Jyn Erso, despite all the work Jyn had done in erasing that identity. But even if she'd wanted to turn Andor-Cassian down flat from sheer fear of discovery, there still remained the matter of the weapon the Empire was building. There was no way she could ignore this, or even delegate it to someone more qualified, because there was no one she could send.  It had to be her. And it had to be now.

Jyn growled under her breath, and let her head thunk backward onto the the cool stones. She had a very bad feeling about all this.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO COMMENTED SO SO MUCH! It's been a slog to get this chapter in a place I was happy with, mostly because one K-2SO couldn't make up his mind as to what he wanted to do. (darn that contrary droid). Knowing that there were people who were interested in this story made it so much easier to keep going. For everyone who subscribed or left kudos, I send them back to you tenfold.

On landing, Jyn wasn’t sure she liked Jedha. Desert it might be, but the moon was as desolate as a glacier, with an added sense of hopelessness and resignation that seemed beaten into the very bedrock. Jyn disliked it because Jedha appeared to be everything she had fought to prevent happening to Vallt made manifest, like the people here had given up so long ago, they no longer remembered how to fight. 

But maybe she wasn't giving the people of Jedha enough credit. There was a Star Destroyer hovering squarely above Jedha's single city, blocking out the sun. Jyn had spent most of the past five years in the tunnels and caverns that honeycombed Vallt and housed the majority of its population, but there was still a primitive part of Jyn's hindbrain that cowered in a small ball at the prospect before her. Even the example of Saw Gerrera, fighting the Empire with everything in him, wasn't enough to kindle defiance where it was already utterly gone.

From the direction of the ship, Jyn heard the distinctive crunch of Cassian’s boots on the sand behind her, a courtesy she appreciated. Joining her at the lip of the bluff they’d landed on, he passed her his macrobinoculars with a nod. “That’s Jedha,” he said starkly. “Or what’s left of it.” 

“Which isn’t much.” Jyn agreed bluntly, lifting the macros to her eyes. She had her own set in her pack of course, but Cassian’s were newer, and of a finer quality than her own, so she wasn’t going to be shy about using the superior equipment when offered. Draven, it seemed, did not skimp on his people’s gear. Thrusting the thought from her mind, she focused the device on the ships entering and leaving the city in a steady stream – no civilian vessels, but Imperial cargo transports, each with a pair of TIE's for escort. “What is it they're mining here again?” she asked Cassian absently, most of her mind focused on the seemingly never-ending swarm of ships.

“Kyber crystal.” Cassian’s voice was measured. Jyn was sure that if she turned to look at him, she would find his dark gaze watching her, expression considering. “As much as they can get.”

Jyn hummed as she mulled that over. “Any assets among the miners?” she asked. Miners wouldn’t know much of anything - the Empire did love it’s secrets - but what it could never hide was volume, and miners were a chatty bunch. Any moves the Empire would make in the collection of kyber would be instantly noticed, and Jyn would take any intelligence she could get in this situation. Something about it set her teeth on edge.

“Kyber is extremely sensitive, and a strategic resource besides,” Cassian’s tone wasn’t judgemental, just confused. Clearly he wasn’t sure what she was getting at. “What makes you think they would trust the mining to organics?”

Jyn had to put down the macros, dumbfounded by such a complete lack of knowledge. “You can’t mine kyber with droids,” Didn’t Draven have his operatives do any research before he sent them into the field? “It’s said that kyber is sensitive to the Force, that the Jedi used to use small kyber crystals to power their lightsabers. Even if that isn’t true, one of the tests for true kyber is the fact that the crystals tend to disappear into the surrounding rock, well camouflaged enough that droids can’t locate them. But the larger kyber deposits will react to the presence of organics in predictable fashions, enough so they can be located and extracted.” 

Cassian looked intrigued. “And how are the smaller deposits located?”

Jyn had to shrug, careful to keep her hands away from her necklace. “The Force?” she guessed. “There are no reports of anyone other than a Jedi locating a small deposit of kyber, and you can forget about cutting them. Laser cutters are more apt to explode than facet the crystals, thanks to the unique way kyber stores and enhances energy.”

Now Cassian was openly staring. “How is it you know all this?” he asked, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice. 

Jyn returned his look with a scoff. “Mining and stonework have been the principal industries on Vallt going on back before the Grand Unification ten centuries ago, well before Vallt joined the Republic. Also, my mother was a geologist.” 

“Was?” there was a note of sympathy in Cassian’s voice. 

“During the Republic. Before I was born.” Jyn shut up. She didn’t like thinking of her mother, and she especially didn’t like talking about her. Lyra Erso was a dim figure in Jyn’s memory these days, and for good reason. Mostly because Jyn’s last memory of the woman was her mother leaving Jyn behind to go back for her father, and getting shot by the Man in White for her troubles. 

Cassian’s eyes held understanding, and a tacit promise not to pry any further. Jyn appreciated that. She was trying not to think about the fact that the ultimate target of this mission was her biological father – not that she often thought of Galen as such. Saw had been her father, in every way that counted, and still was, for all that they hadn't spoken in three years. But Lyra was still a sore spot, a wound that had never truly healed, the product of a child’s heartbroken realization that Momma loved Papa more than her.

The moment was abruptly shattered when a third voice sulked from behind them, “I still don’t see why I have to stay with the ship.” Jyn hastily turned back to the view of the city, raising the macrobinoculars to shield her expression. On the trip to Jedha, she'd found that she quite liked Cassian's droid, K-2SO, though the feeling was most definitely not mutual. Much of the entertainment on the long hyperspace journey had come from listening to his constant complaints, which had filtered out of the cockpit and into the main cabin like music.

Really, there had been no chance of making a good first impression for the droid. Because Cassian had forgotten to inform her that the droid bringing his ship in was a KX series security model - and one, moreover, that was still sporting it’s Imperial markings - her hangar guards had assumed they were being invaded and opened fire, thankfully not destroying the ship, or scoring any hits that would cause permanent damage to the droid’s chassis. Thankfully Cassian had been able to do some fast talking to clear up the issue, and nothing had been damaged that could not be easily repaired, save perhaps, for the injured feelings of one K-2SO. 

“Because Saw’s people will use you for target practice if you don’t stay out of sight?” Jyn commented idly, keeping her eyes on the city while her ears tracked the subtle click and buzz of the droid’s joints as he moved. 

“Your own forces discovered that I am not easily damaged by such fire,” from the sound of his servos, the droid was slowly advancing on Jyn’s position. Casually she turned around to meet him, raising a single eyebrow to show how unimpressed she was the attempt at intimidation. 

“And you discovered that an unprepared Rebel cell will attack you on instinct. And Saw’s people are even more paranoid than mine. They’ll likely kill everyone around you as well, just to be safe, and that includes Cassian.”

That brought K2 up short. His processors whirred as he ingested that particular nugget of information, then drew himself up to his full height to glare down at Jyn. “Cassian. But not you.” It wasn’t a question.

Jyn shrugged easily, masking her amusement at the droid’s clear suspicion. This was almost too easy, winding him up like that. “Oh, they’ll kill me too. But since you clearly don’t care about my life, I figured there was no point in mentioning it.” 

Cassian broke the standoff by hurriedly placing himself between Jyn and his droid. “Kay, please just stay with the ship. If things go south with Saw, we might need you for a quick getaway.”

“Assuming that the package we were sent to pick up is still remotely intact, or this entire trip has been for nothing,” Jyn added cynically, just to see Cassian twitch. She hoped the cargo pilot in question was made of strong stuff - from the timeline as to his disappearance that she’d gotten from Cassian on the flight to Jedha, he’d been in Saw’s hands for at least two standard weeks. That could be a very long time when you were certainly being tortured. Saw had never been known for his fair treatment of prisoners, and having a defecting pilot all but waltz up to his men and hand himself over would impact heavily on his paranoia. Jyn had thought, but had carefully refrained from speaking aloud, that it would be a miracle if the pilot was still alive. 

What it really depended on, she knew from experience, was how much of a spine the pilot had left after the Empire had done it’s best to grind any backbone into dust. It was paradoxical, but if the man had wet himself in fear, and had rolled over like a whipped dog, he’d have been dead within the hour of surrendering himself to Saw. But if he’d kept his wits, and answered back in the face of Saw’s questioning, there was a slim chance that he was still intact enough to be useful. Saw ruled his men through sheer force of personality, and never had the slightest use for weaklings. To survive him, one had face him down, and the more you avoided flinching in the doing, the more he respected you. 

“I have to hope that’s still the case,” Cassian said lightly as he led the way off the mesa they’d landed on. There were a few scattered settlements on Jedha, not many, but enough that a few dusty travelers arriving at the Holy City’s gates on foot wouldn’t attract attention.

“Hope?” Jyn asked incredulously as she jogged a bit to catch up with Cassian’s longer legs. She wasn’t used to being so short anymore, not after spending so many years primarily working with Valltii who were all mostly around her height. Jyn remembered hope. Hope was a frail, fragile thing in which to place one’s faith. Hope had the distressing tendency to die on you, just when you needed it the most. 

Cassian stopped, and turned to stare directly at her for several seconds, studying her face intently. Then he smiled, just the barest lift of his lips, but it made Jyn catch her breath for some strange reason. “Rebellions are built on hope,” he said softly, but burning with conviction. 

Jyn tore her gaze away, her pulse hammering harder in her veins than the brief walk would have accounted for. Slag it, what the fuck was wrong with her, letting Draven’s spy get to her like that? It was the mission, she told herself, just the mission bringing up things that were better left abandoned to the snows. Things like Saw, Galen Erso, and with him came her mother, The Cave, and the Man in White. 

She hitched the bag containing her supplies higher, and wrapped the loose end of the shawl she’d brought along around her head. They had work to do. 

()()()

Director Orson Krennic was… displeased. Yes, he liked that word. Certainly had more of a ring to it than “annoyed”, or the frightfully common “irritated”. Even if the latter word more accurately described his state of mind. 

Krennic had a million and one problems to deal with, just riding herd on the technicians who were preparing to complete the installation of the the firing array on the Great Weapon, his Death Star. Everything had to be perfect, every subsystem, every relay, every conduit and every seal. The slightest jar in any part of the mammoth undertaking could mean disaster, and he was the one the Emperor would blame if the weapon wasn’t ready as scheduled. He did not have the time or energy to stalk onto the observation deck of the Star Destroyer Impervious to dance attendance upon the man who had done the most to thwart his efforts in completing his project. 

“Most unfortunate about the security breach on Jedha, Director Krennic,” Grand Moff Tarkin purred, not even deigning to turn around to acknowledge Krennic’s arrival. “After so many setbacks, and delays, and now this…” Tarkin shook his head as if the news grieved him mightily. 

Krennic ground his teeth and kept silent, as Tarkin finally turned around to look at him, still talking. “We’ve heard rumors, circulating through the city. Apparently you’ve lost a rather talkative pilot.” The moff bared his teeth in what might charitably be called a smile, malice clearly visible through the veneer of civility, as he watched from his position at the viewport “If the Senate gets wind of our project, countless systems will flock to the Rebellion.”

If he thought that would concern Krennic… “When this battle station is completed, Governor Tarkin, the Senate will be of little concern,” Krennic assured the other man, drawing up his dignity and wrapping it around him like his cape. He let his gaze linger a bit too long on Tarkin’s bare shoulders, before flicking them up to meet Tarkin’s eyes. 

The smile had dropped from Tarkin’s mask, and he stepped quickly forward into Krennic’s personal space. “When has become now Director, the Emperor will tolerate no further delay.” There was no hate in the other man’s expression, but Krennic could feel the contempt regardless as Tarkin leisurely resumed his former position. “I suggest we solve both problems with an immediate test of the weapon.” 

Krennic instinctively bristled, both unable and unwilling to simply take orders from a man outside of his chain of command. But Tarkin wasn’t done. “Failure will have you explaining why to a far less… patient audience.” 

Krennic glared at Tarkin, not bothering to mind his expression. But there was only one response he could make. Especially with the oblique threat of the Emperor’s personal displeasure hanging in the air. “I will not fail,” he growled softly, then spun on his heel to stalk out of the room. Out of the room, and all the way back to his Death Star, where he spent the rest of the day hounding his engineers for status reports, and bullying the hyperdrive team to make sure the station was fit for travel. 

Tarkin wanted a test, and he wanted to seal up a leak. So did Krennic, and there was only one ‘place where both things could be done at once: Jedha. 

()()()

Cassian kept a close eye on Tanith as they finally merged into the crowded confines that was the main market district in the Holy City. It had taken most of a day of walking to reach the place from where they’d landed the U-wing, but the delay was worth it to shake any tails that might connect the two of them to the Rebellion.

His contact was in the Temple district, near the center of the city, and they’d have to cross the market in order to get there. He hated crowds, hated having to watch all directions at once, hated not being in control of his surroundings, and it was hard to imagine any place less under his control than a bustling marketplace, filled with beings from all corners of the galaxy, all of them come - or at least that had been true in more innocent days - to worship the Force, to venerate the kyber, or any number of religiously-minded things that for one reason or another, were centered around this one city, on this one small moon. And when pilgrimage was in the offing, trade was never far behind it. You could find anything and anyone in markets just like this one, even when you weren’t expecting….

Cassian spotted the blue skin and yellow eyes of a Valltii man half obscured in a mixed group of ratty-looking aliens and humans all wearing dingy and dirty coveralls that might have once been a uniform, who were all being given a wide berth by the passersby about an instant after Tanith did. He made a grab for her arm, trying to keep her from doing something stupid, like call attention to herself, but she slipped through his grasp like water, and plowed directly into her target, knocking both to the ground. 

To her credit, she did a credible job of being just another pissed-off shopper, irate at anybeing who impeded her progress toward the best bargains. But despite the angry tone, and the (possibly?)rude hand gestures flying thick and fast, Cassian caught the distinctive syllables of the Valltii language. And the man she'd barged into was responding in kind, which made Cassian think that Tanith was most likely working an asset – though Cassian would have sworn that the woman didn't have any networks off Vallt, much less here on Jedha.

They parted, the Valltii man finishing the exchange with a shouted comment. Tanith looked back only long enough to make a gesture that looked convincingly obscene, yet looked vaguely similar to some of the hand-signs some Alliance groups used to communicate in the field...

Somehow Cassian wasn't surprised when Tanith vanished on him between one breath and the next in the surging crowd. Annoyed and frustrated yes, but not surprised. Planting his feet against the surge of bodies in this section of the market, Cassian fought the urge to swear as he slowly turned in place, peering over the heads of the crowd as he attempted to locate exactly which patch of shadow Tanith had disappeared into.

“She will be back for you.” A voice, barely audible over the roar of the crowd reached Cassian's ears. Determinedly, he pushed it from his mind, and redoubled his efforts. Whoever was speaking, they weren't talking to him.

“Yes, I am talking to you.” There it was again. Irritated, Cassian looked over his shoulder to find a blind man sporting the robes of a displaced Temple Guardian seated against one wall. He looked as if he were alone, easy meat for the gangs of scavengers who occasionally prowled the crowd, but a closer inspection revealed his partner, tucked away in a nearby alley, a hulking bruiser who sported Mandalorian armor like it was made of air and cradled an impressively sized cannon in his arms as if it were a child.

Cassian raised his eyebrows in appreciation at the size of the gun, before returning his attention back to the crowd. Where was she...

“Her purpose shines like a beacon, yet she will not forget you.” The blind man continued speaking to the air, making Cassian twitch and lose his concentration. “For she has been abandoned enough times that she will not thoughtlessly do the same to others.”

Finally, Cassian hit his breaking point, allowing himself to drift closer to the Guardian, as if that would make the enigmatic words make more sense. “How do you know I'm looking for someone?” he asked, though he knew better than to encourage such nonsense.

“Your heart reaches out to hers,” came the answer. “She does not trust you yet, though she longs to do the same.”

Before Cassian could begin to parse that comment, a hand landed on his shoulder from behind. Cassian instantly spun around and let his instincts take over, one hand latching onto the invading wrist in a punishing hold, while his other hand fumbled for the blaster holstered under his coat, only to realize that his assailant was Tanith. “Sorry,” he apologized, dropping her wrist abruptly and stepping backward to create space between them.

Tanith gave him a look as if she couldn't understand what he was talking about. “For what?” she asked, as if nearly drawing on a friendly target happened everyday. “Never mind that, we need to move.”

“The strongest stars have hearts of kyber,” the guardian caroled from behind them, and Cassian saw Tanith twitch, one hand rising as if to touch something at her throat before she forced it down again. He let her pull him away from the encounter, more than a little alarmed at the pinched look on her face, one that hadn't been there when she'd slipped away to meet her contact.

“What's wrong?” he asked, once they had left the guardian behind and were several streets away.

“I'm not sure,” Tanith said, her eyes darting to the crowd passing in front of the little nook they'd tucked themselves into, just another couple stealing a moment together out of the chaos of the street. “Why would the Empire suspend mining operations?”

“What?” Cassian couldn't believe his ears.

“Horen, the man I just met with, is a miner working the caverns beneath the Temple,” Tanith revealed. “He told me that he was due to go on shift in a few hours, only the Empire is shutting everything down. This shipment that's coming to the surface now is going to be the last one until they reopen operations.”

“Do you think it's due to Saw?” Cassian asked, because the possibility had to be considered.

Tanith shook her head. “Saw doesn't care about the mines, or about the kyber itself. He'd hit them because they're under Imperial control, but he's more likely to hit the shipments themselves, or raid the local stormtrooper barracks, or sabotage the fueling station those cargo transports we saw are using. Anything to make the Empire bleed. That's his goal, not cutting off individual operations. Those are just how he makes it happen.”

Cassian's mind whirled, trying to consider all the possibilities. If the Empire was shutting down operations here... “Is your source reliable?” he asked abruptly. If this was credible...

Tanith shrugged. “Seems to be.” At Cassian's incredulous look, she added, “He's a sympathizer, not an active agent. But judging by his accent, he's Clan Rhyen, who support us and gave us access to a large section of their clan tunnels, as well as making up a sizable fraction of my forces. One of them must have trusted him, and taught him the correct countersigns.”

Cassian let it go. It wasn't up to him to tell Tanith to run her people. Cassian might operate on the galactic scale, but he normally worked with a relatively small number of people, people he generally knew by sight, if not by birth name. Tanith might confine her operations to a single planet, but there were clearly more people in her network than she could easily track. That was worrying, but it was also why there were codes and countersigns to begin with, so you knew who it was you could trust. If this contact had known the correct codes, and there weren't stormtroopers crashing down on them at this moment, then they should be safe. At least for the moment.

“What did you do with him?” Cassian wanted to know.

Tanith shrugged. “Gave him enough credits so he and his mates could buy passage off this rock.”

Cassian blinked at that answer. “Can you afford that?” he asked, recalling her previous rant on how hard it was to keep everything running on Vallt.

“No,” Tanith rolled her eyes at him. “Which is why I used your credits. I know you can spare the loss, with the way your boss keeps you supplied.”

“You –“ Cassian reached for his pockets where he had his money stashed. Sure enough, several of the large-denomination credit chits he used for bribes were missing, as well as a handful of the smaller ones. From multiple pockets no less, which meant that he'd been picked repeatedly and he still hadn't noticed. “When did you –“ he couldn't complete the sentence.

“A while ago,” a smile played around the corner of Tanith's mouth, full of secrets and satisfaction. “You're a remarkably easy mark.”

Cassian would have taken offense to that, if the evidence wasn't right before his eyes. He knew he was good. But plainly she was better, and they both knew it.

Cassian shook the feeling off. Assuming the miner's information was accurate, they were on a much tighter clock than he'd guessed from the general mood on the streets. “We need to get going,” he told Tanith shortly, leading her out back into the busy thoroughfares. “I have a contact in the Temple District, who has a brother in Saw's forces. We give her your name, and with any luck, she can get us a meeting.”

()()()

Jyn halted at Cassian's words, baulking instinctively at his suggestion. Not that it was a bad idea, it just... wouldn't work.

“Codeword,” she said decisively, eyes carefully on the passersby, avoiding Cassian's gaze without seeming to. She had to be careful with this, one wrong word - one wrong inflection - and Cassian could end up with information she didn't want anyone – and definitely not someone who reported to Davits Draven – to have, all without her meaning to let anything at all slip past her guard.

“Come again?” Cassian's footsteps didn't falter in the slightest, but Jyn could almost feel his renewed stare fixate between her shoulder blades.

“I deal in identities for your boss, remember?” Jyn was careful to keep her voice down, just below the level of the market cacophony that should be enough to keep other pedestrians from overhearing them. Still, that was no reason to get sloppy. “Tanith Ponta wasn't the name my parents gave me, and it wasn't the one I used with Saw. His people won't know it.”

“So what name should we give them?” Oh, he was good. Just the right level of confused helpfulness mixed with the neutrality of someone who didn't really care one way or the other, that would make any number of marks spill their guts without even realizing that's what they were doing. But Jyn wasn't one to be caught out so easily.

“Steela,” she said easily. “Not my name, but it's one that none of his people would ever dismiss.”

“Why not?” Cassian sounded honestly curious. Was it real? Or just another interrogation technique. Did it really matter which one it was?

Jyn hesitated a breath, wondering just how much to share. No one outwardly mentioned Steela in Saw's forces, but that didn't keep the knowledge of who she was and what had happened to her from being an open secret in the upper echelons of the Cadre. “Saw had a sister once,” was all Jyn finally said. She made sure her tone discouraged further questioning. “Come on.”

The crowd around them was starting to thin out as they reached the edge of the market district, but instead of relaxing, Jyn only grew more tense. Rather than an ebb and flow of foot traffic in all directions, most of those she saw were only traveling in a single direction, and up ahead, there were too many bodies pressed together in a way that pricked at her instincts.

“Convoy up ahead,” she warned Cassian. “If not now, then soon.”

“How can you tell?” Cassian asked curiously.

Jyn watched the line ahead ripple as some poor sod tried to cross the street, only to be bodily thrown back the the stormtroopers guarding the route. “They do this on Vallt as well,” she said grimly, as they drew up level with the blocked roadway. “They –“ her eyes widened abruptly as she took in the scene. “Get down!” she screamed, bodily throwing Cassian into cover.

Behind them, the street exploded.

()()()

Everything happened so fast, Cassian thought dazedly. One moment a shipment of kyber - possibly the last, based on the report Tanith’s impromptu contact had delivered about the closure of the mines - was being escorted through the the streets, the next all hell broke loose. Cassian thought he’d seen a heavily cloaked figure on a nearby rooftop throwing a grenade between two vehicles in the convoy, then other pedestrians had thrown back their cloaks and robes to reveal a vast assortment of blasters and other weapons,and... he wasn’t sure of all that much past the moment when they’d opened fire. 

If it wasn’t for Tanith, Cassian thought wryly, between bursts of fire at any stormtroopers who seemed to be a bit too interested in his position, he’d likely be dead. The woman had sensed trouble an instant before he had, and had shoved him bodily toward a door and into cover, just as the shooting started. An instant later, she’d thrown herself headlong into the fray. 

A child’s shrieks suddenly caught his attention, drawing his gaze to where a little girl had apparently wandered straight into the battlezone, sobbing for her parents. Cassian barely had time to notice her before a blur of black snatched her to safety, depositing the child in the lee of an ornamental column, before Tanith darted back into the battle, firing two quick shots that cleared her path to cover behind one of the wrecked vehicles. But on the roof above, the fighter who had triggered this entire mess was once again winding up to throw…

Cassian carefully sighted along his barrel, and fired. He deliberately didn’t think about how if any of Saw’s people traced that particular shot to him, he might have blown the entire mission before it truly started. Certainly they’d want blood for it if they knew, Saw typically operating on the “eye for an eye” mentality, and had no qualms about applying it to the Alliance. But it had been reflex, drilled into him from countless survived firefights, to watch his partner’s back, no matter how recent the acquaintance. 

The ground shook as the grenade that had been intended for Tanith’s position, reached the street and detonated, blasting back a knot of stormtroopers. Tanith’s eyes jerked to Cassian, and then she was up and running toward him, clearing herself a corridor as she went. No words were necessary as he joined her, his own blaster shooting one final stormtrooper as Cassian followed Tanith into a side street and away from the chaos. 

True, they’d found Saw’s forces, but making contact in this mess would only get them killed. Far better to get clear of this mess, regroup, and make contact again only after things had calmed down a bit. 

A lot easier, Cassian thought grimly as they ran headlong into stormtrooper reinforcements making their way to the battle ahead, to say than do. 

Tanith never hesitated. Letting her blaster fall, she reached into her coat on either side and pulled out a pair of weighted batons,and ploughed into the onrushing troops like a dervish, taking them out with kicks and strikes before most of them even realized she was there. Moments later, the entire squad was on the ground, unconscious or dead. Cassian never even had the chance to get a shot off, as Tanith stooped, picked up her fallen blaster, and shot dead the last two stormtroopers that had been smart enough to stay out of her reach. 

“How did…” Cassian felt the words drift away in amazement as he stared dumbfounded at the carnage surrounding them.

Tanith shrugged, holstering her batons and checking over her blaster to be sure it hadn’t taken damage from being dropped the way it had. “I’ve been fighting ever since I was not much older than that girl back there,” she said simply. “I’ve picked up a few things.”

Cassian let that obvious understatement pass, they weren’t out of this fix just yet. 

They ran on, trying to keep to the twisting alleyways that seemed to be emptier of Imperial presence. But just ahead, Cassian abruptly saw a KX-series droid lurch into their path from a dark alleyway to their right, startling both of them. Cassian’s blaster jerked instinctively toward the potential threat, but Tanith was faster. Her reflexive shot seared completely through the security droid’s one weak point, the neck, causing the cranial unit to topple completely off the chassis, and the entire structure to fall heavily to the ground. 

Belatedly, Cassian’s head swiveled to stare at Tanith, mind blank as he tried to come up with words to convey that she had likely just killed his partner and only real friend. To her credit, Tanith seemed equally as horrified, her face starkly blank as she slowly lowered her blaster.

“Did you know that wasn’t me?” a breathtakingly familiar voice inquired. Cassian looked, and saw a second KX-series emerge from yet another alley. Heart in his throat, Cassian looked carefully at the newcomer, and located a distinctive dent toward the back of the cranium, a memento of that heart-stopping moment when Cassian has been forced to slam a rock into the droid’s head to keep it subdued long enough for his improvised program patch to finish downloading so he could subvert K-2SO’s original programming and continue with his mission. 

Kay had refused to allow it to be completely repaired, insisting on the grounds that Cassian and other operatives needed to be able to distinguish him from others of his model, to prevent moments similar to that Cassian had feared just moments ago. 

Tanith, for her part, seemed to take Kay’s seemingly apparent death and resurrection in stride. “ Of course,” she said in a decent approximation of a casual tone and shrug. Cassian might even have believed it, if he hadn’t seem the way her hands shook as they bolstered her blaster. 

Cassian himself didn't have time for posturing games. “Kay, what are you doing here?” he asked urgently, stepping closer to the droid and lowering his voice - out of sheer habit if nothing else, because there was nothing about this conversation that needed to be screened from other ears. 

“I am here to protect you from Saw Gerrera of course.” Kay made it sound like it was the only logical explanation.

“And the fact that I made it more than clear what Saw’s reaction to seeing you near us means…?” Tanith’s comment from the other side of the alley made both Cassian and K2 turn to regard her from where she stood keeping an eye out for more Imperial forces. She turned back to them with a shrug. “We’re all clear for the moment. No one appears to be coming this way.”

Kay said huffily, “There are 46 similar units to myself within this quarter of the city alone. It was easy to blend in among them while I tailed you through the crowds to this location. Saw Gerrera should have no cause to connect you with me.”

“He won’t need cause, if his men find us together right now.” Cassian growled. “Kay, in case it slipped your circuits, the entire point of this mission is to make contact with Saw Gerrera and his people. And we can’t do that if you are within a kilometer of us.” 

Kay thought that over. “That is acceptable.”

“What?”

“I will stay at least a kilometer from you at all times.” Kay clarified. “That should be sufficient to both watch your back, and still protect you from Saw Gerrera.”

Cassian blinked. Was it that easy?

“Better make it two,” Tanith interjected. “And as soon as we make contact with Saw, you go back to the ship, so you can be ready to extract us at a moment’s notice.”

Kay swiveled his head to stare at her. She only raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ll do more good with the ship than in trying to breach Saw’s headquarters in search of us. You won’t make it in, and all you’ll be doing is signing both of our death warrants. Chances are, we’ll need a quick getaway, and that is best accomplished with you at the ship.”

Kay thought that over, then nodded. “Agreed.”

Cassian was relieved. Kay was used to watching his back on assignment, but in this particular situation he was more of a hindrance than a help. Then they turned around another corner, and found a square full of stormtroopers.

“Where are you taking these prisoners.” the leader of the squad asked Kay, before they had a chance to retreat. 

“I am taking them to imprison them… in prison.” Cassian wanted to sigh. The patch that had deleted K-2SO’s Imperial programming had also left him very literal, with very little gift for subterfuge. Given that his programming was delicate enough as it was, there hadn’t been much Cassian could do about it, even if Kay had allowed Cassian to install the upgrades that would allow him to lie with more fluidity. This was the other reason he didn’t like taking Kay into the field with him, at least not without extensive prep and coaching as to how to behave in the most likely scenarios. 

“He’s taking us to -” Cassian tried, only to be cut off as Kay lightly (for a droid anyway) smacked his face. 

“And there’s a fresh one if you mouth off again,” Kay scolded him, quoting from one of the scripts Cassian had drilled into him for an op three months ago. 

The stormtrooper wasn’t buying it, Cassian could see. Not only were neither of the ‘prisoners’ secured, but Kay was not acting like a typical security droid. “I’ll have to check your programming back at base,” he told Kay, while stormtroopers secured first Cassian’s, than Tanith’s wrists with binders. 

Predictably, Kay put up a fuss about the prospect. The droid was particular as to who he felt had clearance to examine his code (which boiled down to Cassian and no one else) without a fight, which had gotten Cassian into trouble with Maintenance back at Base on more than one occasion. The trouble was, here it could get all of them summarily shot. And with all the attention Kay was attracting from the other stormtroopers filling the square…

Cassian was almost relieved to hear the unmistakable sound of the monk from the marketplace, intoning in a ringing voice, “Let them pass.”

()()()

Chirrut Imwe followed the flickering warmth of the crystal in his mind, marveling inwardly at the strength and purpose of the mind behind it. Even without the crystal to amplify it, her mind was uncommonly strong, shining as brightly as a signal beacon on a moonless night. Her companion was harder to read, without a kyber to amplify his mind, and he had trained to be more diffuse, the better to slip into places not commonly allowed. If the first mind was a signal flare, calling all in range to gather and follow her lead, the second mind was a pale wash of moonlight over the dunes, no less bright, but spread out over a wider landscape. 

Chirrut had been tracking the pair for most of the day, his attention caught and held by the kyber tied around the female’s neck. To those with eyes, doubtless they would have passed unnoticed, as they had been careful not to draw attention to themselves. But Chirrut had been exposed to kyber since his parents had given him to the Temple at the age of six, shortly after he had lost his sight, and he knew it’s resonance better than he knew his own heartbeat. 

Baze was skeptical of course. But Baze was skeptical of everything these days, up to and including the kyber, the Mandalorians, the Empire, and especially the Force. Sometimes Chirrut joked - always sure that Baze was listening of course - that Baze would be skeptical of the sun if he didn’t feel its warmth everyday. And every time Baze would sputter, then grumble about why he still put up with Chirrut’s jokes, and Chirrut would smile, basking in the knowledge that the one thing Baze still had faith in was Chirrut himself. 

Even now, Chirrut knew Baze was following him, watching his back, making sure Chirrut didn’t jump feet-first into any trouble that he couldn’t handle. 

Which this wasn’t, at least, not yet. “Let them pass,” he intoned, as if the pair currently being detained were Jedi being mobbed for blessings by pilgrims visiting at the Temple. Which these two were most definitely not, for no matter how brightly the female’s mind shone, no matter how the crystal she wore amplified it, it was still no match for the eye-searing intensity of a Jedi’s trained mind. But the situation fit regardless. “Let them pass.’

The stormtroopers dithered, not certain how to react to Chirrut’s challenge. Several of them raised their blasters in his direction, even as they argued among themselves as to how to deal with Chirrut, wondering at his blindness. Chirrut wondered if he should tell them, that for all they had sight, it was the stormtroopers that were truly blind. He could read the situation perfectly well, whereas they allowed themselves to draw perilously close to him, too focused on him to see where their blasters were truly pointing. 

“I fear nothing,” Chirrut intoned as the stormtroopers finally made up their minds and closed in around him, blasters raised, “For all is as the Force wills it.”

While the words were part of a formal meditation, meant to center himself for the fight to come, they were also directed at the kyber’s bearer, whose mind was shrieking at him to flee. She thought of him as a helpless bystander, one who had unwittingly been drawn into her fight, but that was simply not correct. First, he knew precisely what he was doing. Second, this was Chirrut’s fight, had been his fight ever since the First Guardian had surrendered the Temple and the kyber mines beneath it to the Empire without even a token struggle. 

Such cowardice had driven Baze to the Mandalorians when a group of them had passed through Jedha not six months after all the Guardians had been exiled outside of the Temple walls, even if he had returned to Chirrut barely a year later, refusing to speak of his time away. The decision had rankled in Chirrut as well, even as he understood the necessity of it, both now, and at the time. 

But the crystal around the female’s neck was a sign from the Force, and it was time to remind both the Empire and the people of Jedha that the Guardians of the Whills were not helpless, and that with the aid of the Force, no handicap was insurmountable. Including that of his blindness. 

Patiently, Chirrut waited for the Force to tell him what was happening, listening placidly to the soft creak of the stormtroopers plasteel armor, the scuff of their boots as they shifted their weight. The moment would come… Now!

Chirrut threw himself to one side, shifting just enough so that the bolt went straight past him and into another trooper. As if that one shot had been the signal,all the stormtroopers in the square opened fire, the bolts either landing harmlessly in the dirt, or striking down their fellows as Chirrut by then was long gone. 

Three bolts hit the stormtroopers guarding the prisoners, and Chirrut breathed fractionally easier as they immediately threw themselves into cover, and out of danger of any more stray shots. Now he could devote his full attention to the fight. The sliver of kyber embedded in his staff blazed like a brand to Chirrut’s sight, as fierce and strong as any lightsaber as he swung the implement hard enough to ring stormtrooper skulls even through the thick helmets. Nearly every swing toppled another of the Empire’s soldiers, with no more than three hits required to send the white-clad forms to the ground and keep them from rising again. Chirrut lept, spun, and struck, letting the Force carry and direct his movements, joyously reveling in the exhilaration that came from inhabiting the Force in a way that he had not been able to indulge in for over a decade now. 

One stormtrooper bravely managed to get close, and foolishly tried to restrain Chirrut. Innocently, Chirrut inquired, “Is your foot alight?” before jamming the butt of his staff into the trooper’s toes. Even through the armored boot, that elicited quite the reaction, and Chirrut was able to use the planted staff as a fulcrum by which to twist around the hapless trooper, before using his body as a shield against the shots fired by several of his comrades. 

Chirrut dropped the smoking corpse as soon as the troopers stopped their volley, and was in and among those who had fired barely a breath later. No sooner had he dealt with them, than he heard the pounding of five more stormtroopers coming up the way. Chirrut spun to face them, staff raised, but they’d stopped just out of easy range of his staff, and with the way they were arrayed, he’d be hard pressed not to dodge into an oncoming bolt…

Five shots rang out, two of which passed uncomfortably close to Chirrut. Five stormtroopers fell. Chirrut carefully didn’t smile as he straightened from his crouch, recognizing Baze’s exasperated concern radiating out from behind him. “You almost shot me,” he complained, knowing without words just how worried his partner had been. 

Sure enough, he felt Baze’s concern ease, leaving only the exasperation behind. “You’re welcome,” Baze growled, tossing Chirrut his lightbow.

Both newcomers crawled cautiously out of cover then, the female calculating, the male wondering. “Is he a Jedi?” the male - the one Chirrut had talked to earlier in the marketplace - asked under his breath.

Baze heard, and snorted his derision. “No Jedi here anymore,” he told the male scornfully. “Only dreamers like this fool.” a jerk of his shaggy head indicated Chirrut.

“The Force did protect me,” Chirrut reminded Baze cheekily, sitting down on one of the fallen stormtroopers. The man was dead, surely he could no longer object to the indignity. 

“I protected you!” Baze rounded on Chirrut immediately, just as Chirrut had known he would.

Chirrut’s mouth was open to continue with their usual post-fight banter, when a third voice that did not have a Force presence to match it piped up, “Hostiles down.”

Baze reacted immediately, dropping the argument and bringing his cannon back up to bear, pointing at a… Chirrut strained his senses, trying to determine just what Baze was leveling at. A droid? From the angle of its voice, it was unusually tall, and Chirrut quickly sorted through his memory trying to match his impressions of it with the last time a month ago when Baze had sat with him and patiently described each and every droid model found in their patch of the Holy City, patiently helping Chirrut identify them as best he could. “One Hostile,” the droid amended, and Chirrut’s ears latched onto the distinctive squeak of its arms as it raised them into the air, pinpointing not only its location, but the model as well. No wonder Baze was jumpy. He held a special dislike for the Empire’s Security droids, thinking them worse than stormtroopers. Stormtroopers, at the very least, were organic. 

“He’s with us!” the female shouted, and rushed to block Baze’s shot. Chirrut nodded assent to Baze’s incredulous look in his direction - not that he needed to see it - more interested in the male’s surprise at the female’s action. He hadn’t expected that, Chirrut could tell, and Chirrut could almost see the bonds of… of what, Chirrut still couldn’t tell, weave themselves further in between both figures. But whatever they were, they were new, so new that they hadn’t been present when Chirrut had encountered them in the market earlier, which was… interesting. 

Well, Chirrut wondered, let us see how the Force wished things to play out. Taking the nod as a signal, Baze lowered his cannon, and the droid lowered its arms. Shortly thereafterward came the distinctive click of binder locks releasing, and over the clink of first one, then two sets of binders hitting the street, he heard the male tell the droid, “Kay, it’s alright. Things are as settled as they are going to get right now. You can go.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” the female added, shifting her weight as if she had just nodded her head toward the male. That seemed to be what the droid had been waiting for, as it finally stumped away, somehow leaving behind the impression that if it had been organic it would have been muttering dark imprications under its breath as it left the square behind. 

Just in time. No sooner had the droid left, then a crowd of sharp-edged ruffians poured into the small square. *There they are!* called a Tognath who appeared to be their leader. 

Baze growled at them, but there were already too many of them for him to fight alone with any chance of survival. He didn’t struggle as the fighters - which had to be Saw Gerrera’s self-styled Partisans from their smoke-blackened auras - quickly and efficiently disarmed them all and raised weapons for the kill. 

“Is this really necessary?” Chirrut asked the two who picked him up and forced him to his knees, their hearts even harder than their hands. “Surely it must be more than obvious that we are no friends of Empire.” a tilt of his head indicated the rapidly fading Force presences in the stormtrooper corpses scattered all around the square.

*Tell that to the one who killed several of my men.* the Tognath had heard Chirrut and had stalked closer to him to snarl through his mask. At the words, Chirrut felt a flash of shame coming from the male he’d spoken to in the marketplace and knew it for the truth. Chirrut blinked uselessly in reaction to the unexpected news, but ultimately decided - assuming that he and Baze weren’t about to die because of it - that he approved. Saw Gerrera hadn’t exactly endeared himself to the people of Jedha when he’d arrived on the moon, what with his willingness to exact reprisals from not only the Empire, but the local citizenry as well. Chirrut would shed no tears at his losses, even if he hadn’t been about to be sacrificed to Saw’s revenge.

“Wait!” the female’s voice rang out, loud enough to be heard by everyone in the square, jerking the attention of the Tognath to her. “If harm comes to me, or any of my friends, you will answer to Saw Gerrera directly for it.” Her tone was redolent with command, so much that all of Saw’s ruffians stopped what they were doing to stare at her, their consternation clear. 

*And who are you to make such a claim?* the Tognath growled back at her.. 

From the ringing of the Force around her, Chirrut imagined that the female had drawn herself up to stare the leader full in the face. “Because my name is Tanith Ponta,” LIE! shrieked the Force, “And I’m a friend of Steela’s.” 

The leader checked himself, rocking back on his heels with the force of whatever those words had meant, before spinning around and growling out an order for all of them to be taken into custody.

Chirrut only had enough time to register the rustle of cloth by his ear, before a sack of some kind was roughly dropped over his face. “Oh come on!” Chirrut protested. “I’m blind!” It wasn’t as if the hood was going to make any real difference in his effectiveness, but he allowed himself to be hauled up by hard hands and dragged away regardless. 

His duty was to follow the kyber, wherever it led, and besides, Chirrut was honestly curious as to what would happen next. Baze might complain, but even he would have to admit that this was more exciting than watching over Chirrut in the market. The Force would provide all answers when the time came. It was Chirrut’s task to be ready to receive them. And who knew? This might even be fun.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again! this was a chapter that was remarkably compliant. Next chapter might take a bit longer, I've got the beginning, but am currently unsure of where it wants to end. Which is only an issue in that this chapter was VERY CLEAR as to where it wanted to end, even if it is a bit of a cliffhanger. 
> 
> again, THANK YOU to everyone who commented, left kudos, or simply clicked on it to check it out. I owe each and every single one of you.

Cassian shifted uncomfortably from his position at the cell door. For one thing, jamming himself against the bars was the most he could do to quiet the instincts that were screaming at him for flight - no spy worth the name was unaware of the dangers of capture. 

For another, the cell he’d been placed in wasn’t large, even for single occupancy, and it was currently housing three. The Guardian from the market and his Mandalorian partner were shoved in there with him, and out of all three of them, it was the Guardian who was taking up the most room, what with his endless, repeated chant of “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” until Cassian thought his ears would start bleeding if he had to hear that mantra just one more time. 

But neither of those concerns were what was truly bothering him. Cassian hadn’t seen Tanith since they’d been taken into custody by Saw’s forces. They’d kept track of each other as best they could through the long, blind march to wherever Saw kept his headquarters, but once the blinding hood had been removed from his head and he’d been shoved into the cell, there had been no sign of her. All attempts to query the guards currently playing sabacc just a few feet away as to her whereabouts had come to nothing, leaving Cassian with no recourse but to cling to the bars, and worry. 

Kay would be expecting a check-in soon, but even though Cassian could see his pack piled with the rest of their gear not all that far away, it was frustratingly out of reach, and under the direct noses of the guards besides, more taunt than temptation. 

The one thing he could think of about this situation that was remotely positive, was that the guards had been so eager to throw him into the cell that they’d done a piss-poor job of searching him. True, they’d taken his knives - all three of them - along with his blaster and the spare power packs he kept for emergencies, or needed to change the energy signature of his primary weapon to throw off a search. But they’d missed the miniaturized slicing kit he kept in a cuff around his left ankle. Tanith’s patrol, back on Vallt, had done a much more through job. 

“... I am one with the Force, and the Force - “

“Do you have to do that?” Cassian abruptly hit his limit, and swung around to glare fruitlessly at the sightless eyes of his cellmate. “I’m trying to find a way out of here.” If only the guards would move their game elsewhere, then he’d be able to slice the lock on the cell door in a flash and be gone. He needed to concentrate in order to effect an escape under such close surveillance. And concentration was in short supply with that infernal chanting filling the air. 

“So is he,” the Mandalorian rumbled from where he was propping up the far wall with his bulk. “He’s praying for the door to open.”

That, at least, stopped the Guardian’s recitation, saying cheekily, “He mocks, because he knows it’s possible.” The Mando snorted disdainfully in reply, than lapsed back into silence. 

The Guardian evidently wasn't finished poking fun at his companion. “Baze Malbus was once the most devoted Guardian of them all,” he said, angling his body to more include Cassian, even as his face remained pointed in the direction of his friend. 

“Chirrut,” the Mando - Baze - groaned in clear protest, through he made no move to actually silence the other man. Cassian was more than a little intrigued by the story implied by their by play - how and why would a Guardian of the Whills join the Mandalorians? - but other concerns were more pressing. 

Abruptly the cell door next to them clanged shut, the pair of guards who had just deposited their charge in the pen next to them wandering over to join the sabacc game with the other guards. Baze, being the closest to the small opening between the cells, took a peak at whomever was incarcerated with them.

“It’s an Imperial pilot!” The older man snarled in tones of deep disgust. “I’m going to kill him!”

Cassian was moving almost without thought, trying desperately to get between the Mando and his prey without losing any limbs in the process. “No, wait, I need him alive!” At the last moment, Cassian decided against trying to physically shove him aside, not only was Baze built as solidly as a bantha, but with the addition of his armor that the guards had wisely decided to leave alone, Cassian would have better luck trying to topple a mountain than attempting to move him somewhere he did not wish to be moved. 

Baze shifted his glare to Cassian. “You need him alive?” the “for what?” went unsaid, but was still clearly understood.

“He had information I need.” Cassian deliberately regulated his breathing, forcing himself to meet the Mandalorian’s eyes squarely. 

Baze watched him for a long, tense moment, before he grunted his acquiesce and stomped over to the cell door. 

Satisfied that he’d secured as much privacy as was possible under the circumstances, Cassian bent to peer through the narrow opening. Sure enough, a young man, only a few years younger than Cassian himself, sitting silently in the next cell, eyes fixed on nothing and rocking back and forth. Cassian wanted to curse at the sight, recalling Tanith’s repeated warnings about Saw’s predictable response to the pilot surrendering himself during the flight to Jedha. She’d thought it likely that the man would be useless to anyone else once Saw was done with him. All Cassian had left to hope for was the possibility that since Saw’s interrogators clearly weren’t finished with him, there might still be something left to salvage. 

“Hey,” he whispers through the bars, repeating himself slightly louder when his first call had no effect. “Hey, are you the pilot?”

Stupid question really, the man - boy really, and wow did that Cassian feel old - was wearing worn and grimy flight coveralls that clearly had been worn constantly since his capture. The coveralls were over five years past issue, well past the point most Imperials would have put in for new uniforms, but Cassian was just able to pick out various mends skilfully done in expert stitches that were nearly invisible to the eye done in order to make them last. 

So, he’d been one of those Imperials, the ones who didn’t believe in it, who barely supported it beyond what they were required to do by their jobs, but had joined up anyway to send whatever pittance the Empire granted them back to relatives who had no other means of support. Cassian both loved and hated dealing with them: they would spill all sorts of data to a sympathetic ear in a Cantina over a mug of ale, but try to get them to do anything real and they abruptly turned into duracrete walls. Unless and until of course, the Empire was foolish enough to act against those who they had been supporting, at which point they would often throw themselves at the nearest Alliance recruiter, desperate to avenge what they had lost. 

Cassian had to wonder just what had happened, and who it had been, that had driven the pilot here, into what had to be his worst nightmare. Into the hands of Saw Gerrera, who had taken what would otherwise have been a dedicated convert, and one with priceless intelligence to share - and had wasted it in the name of paranoia and petty revenge. Cassian was so occupied by mentally castigating Saw for such an epic bungle, that he nearly missed the soft words. “Yes,” came the words, so frail and thin as to be nearly soundless. “Yes, I am the pilot.”

()()()()

Everything hurt. Again, always, it was hard to tell. The pain fogged his mind, kept him awake, and this deep inside Saw’s fortress time seemed to go on forever. Or maybe that was the pain talking. The only mark of time he had was when the Rebels took him out of his cell for his ‘sessions’, but Bodhi Rook couldn’t keep track of the between time. There seemed to be no pattern to when he was taken out of his cell, but maybe that was due to the pain as well. 

The worst thing about it, was how unfair it all was. Bodhi hated the Empire, had hated it for as long as he could remember, but flying cargo for them had been the only way for him to afford Ama’s medicines. Once she’d finally died, he’d started looking for a way out, a way to finally do the right thing for the first time in his life. 

Only now, Bodhi wasn’t sure he knew what that was anymore. Life in Imperial service had been sublime compared to what he was experiencing now. He’d known the rules, the penalties for breaking them, and had known to a science just how far he could push things before he started getting hurt.  

Now… he didn’t know what the Rebels wanted from him. Whenever he asked them, they kept screaming at him to “Tell the truth,” but whenever he tried that, they just hurt him more. He’d tell them whatever they wanted to hear, had been at that stage for a while now, but he didn’t know what that was. Without direction, he kept repeating the same story he’d told them when they’d captured him - NO! When he’d defected.  He had to remember that. Had to hold on to that truth. He’d defected, he’d chosen this. And if Galen was right about The Project, then he had to hold on, had to make them believe him. 

Words reached his ears, soft, beguiling, gentle in a way that cleared the fog the pain brought with it, words that matched the mantra that he chanted to himself in his more lucid moments to keep himself whole. “...you the pilot?”

“Yes,” he answered dreamily. “I am the pilot.” It was his security, his identity, one that reached down to his bones, below even his name. He was The Pilot.

“Did Galen Erso send you?” the voice asked again, still soft, still gentle, but with an edge of something more Bodhi couldn’t name underneath it. 

He remembered Galen. Remembered late nights spent talking together in pilots duty lounge - detached from the main lab complex - long after everyone else had hit their racks. Remembered playful arguments over the best varieties of caff, friendly ribbing over the results of smashball games. Remembered other things as well. 

“Yes,” he said, still dreamy, but the ever present pain starting to return once again. Galen had asked Bodhi to be his messenger, had told him how to find Saw, had told him how vital it was to give him the message. “I brought the message. I am the pilot.” 

“Message?” the voice sounded abruptly confused, as if he didn’t know what Bodhi was talking about. That was bad. The voice was going to hurt him now. Bodhi felt himself rocking harder, the instinctive movement coming farther up into his conscious mind. “No, no, it’s okay. You brought the message. Was the message from Galen?” the voice soothed, going back to it’s hypnotic calmness that paradoxically cleared the pain from Bodhi’s mind and allowed him to be more himself than he had before. 

“Yes,” Bodhi whispered. “I am the pilot. I brought the message.”

“That’s good,” the voice encouraged him. “That’s really good.” Bodhi liked it when he was good. Good meant that no one wanted to hurt him. That’s all the Empire had asked of him, be good, and no one will hurt you or those you love. Galen had said that the Rebels were different, and in a way he’d been right. Bodhi wished that he hadn’t been so right at the moment. 

“Where is he, where can I find Galen?” the voice asked, a note of urgency in it that broke through more of the fog in Bodhi’s mind. Galen had said something about that, back in those furtive moments he’d handed Bodhi the holochip he’d recorded the message on, drilling him in the procedures to gain Saw Gerrera’s attention, in that too-brief time Galen could vanish from lab security and not raise alarms. Bodhi had wanted to take Galen with him, wanted them both to escape together. But Galen had said no, said it was too dangerous, told him not to come back. 

“Come back where?” the voice coaxed, so comforting that Bodhi wanted to wrap himself up in it and hide from the galaxy in its softness. 

“Eadu,” Bodhi mumbled to his knees that were now drawn up against him and wrapped in a tight hug. 

“Is that where Galen is?”

Bodhi froze mid-rock, finally awake enough to realize what was going on. He was in a cell, as always, but somehow there was another man in the small window into the next cell, looking at him with encouraging eyes. “Who are you?” he whispered, suddenly aware that he’d been running his mouth to a total stranger. A stranger with kind eyes and a soft voice, and sure, that was worlds away from Saw Gerrera’s interrogators with their hard eyes and harder hands, but still, a stranger. On the other hand, the fact that the other man was in the next cell was a good indication that whoever he was, he wasn’t aligned with Saw. “Who are you?” Bodhi whispered, and didn’t try to hide how hard his voice was shaking. 

The other man smiled, like Galen’s smile, worn, and more than a little tired, but real, the expression softening his eyes even further. “I’m Cassian. I’m with the Rebel Alliance, and I’m here to get you out.”

“What?” came the muffled explosion from further back in the cell, and Cassian grimaced, before withdrawing to deal with whoever had made the yell. That gave Bodhi time to consider his response. Saw Gerrera was Alliance, wasn’t he? But if he was, why would the Alliance send someone to get Bodhi out of Saw’s cells? Wouldn’t they just ask for him, and have him be transferred out? That’s how it happened in the Empire.  If a higher-up wanted a specific prisoner, they were on the transport to their new destination within a day, if not sooner.

But if the Alliance had sent someone to get him away from Saw Gerrera, and if their agent was in the cell next to Bodhi, did that mean he had made a mistake? Was he in the wrong place? But no, he remembered it clearly, Galen had told him to seek out Saw Gerrera, because Saw Gerrera was part of the Rebel Alliance. That was why Bodhi had been sent where he had. So why was the man in the next cell saying he was here to take Bodhi away? Could Galen have been wrong, but if he was, what else could he be wrong about? The sudden uncertainty made Bodhi’s head spin worse than usual. 

The torture had been bad enough, but Bodhi was disturbed to realize that there was something worse than pain out there. He didn’t know what was going on anymore. That scared him more than anything.

()()()()

It was only due to her long years spent in the caverns and tunnels of Vallt that Jyn was able to recognized the exact moment they stepped foot inside Saw Gerrera’s cliffside fortress. That experience meant that she had been ready, paying close attention even through the hubbub any returning patrol brought forward as a matter of course. That was why she had caught the exact instant that Cassian and the others were hustled away in a different direction from where her minders were taking her. 

She knew why they were singling her out. Maybe she hadn’t recognized the Tognath giving the orders during the convoy raid, but he’d clearly been high up in Saw’s Inner Circle, high enough to know the recognition phrase used between Saw’s most able lieutenants. As far as Jyn knew, she was the only one to have ever left that number without a blaster bolt to the head to ensure her silence. She’d long known Saw’s performance with the wrong rendezvous coordinates had been a mercy in more ways than one. 

Finally they stopped, and pushed her onto a bench before unbinding her hands. Quick as lightning, Jyn ripped the bag off her head, and bared her teeth at the still-armed Tognath looming over her. Only the most charitable would have termed her expression a smile. 

“Thank you, it’s lovely to be finally able to take a full breath again.” she said, knowing full well that - like their Kel Dor cousins - Tognathi tissues reacted badly to the presence of oxygen, thus the filtering breath mask and eye coverings both species wore constantly. 

The Tognath growled wordlessly through his own mask, as if that would be enough to intimidate her. Not only were his own weapons in easy reach, Jyn realized, but the idiot hadn’t even bothered to search her, and he’d unbound her hands before starting the questioning. Time was, Saw would have personally beaten him bloody for such a mistake, even if it didn’t have immediate fatal consequences. Clearly standards had been slipping since she’d left. 

*How is it that you know that code?*

Jyn had to scoff at the lameness of the question. “How is it that no one has changed it in the last seven years?” she shot back. “Saw knew where I was, and knew the exact extent of my knowledge when I left - or should have, considering that he taught me most of it.”

*If you were one of us, why protect one who killed our own.* Ah, now they were getting past the crust of the issue. If Saw had one virtue as a commander, it was in instilling the identity of the group in his fighters. Jyn remembered the lessons vividly, and had incorporated most of them into her own troops. An attack against one, was an attack against all, and would be responded to as such. But even still, she found she couldn’t quite blame Cassian for taking that shot, not if she had any idea as to which shot it was that had gotten them all into trouble. Which she thought she did. 

It was in the middle of the ambush, and she had been taking cover behind one of the crawlers that had been wrecked in the initial assault. Then had come the out of place explosion on the fringes of the melee, which had - to it’s credit - taken out a mess of stormtroopers in the bargain. But to achieve that result, the grenade had to have been dropped straight down on top of them, which was a beginner’s mistake that no one who lasted longer than six months with Saw would make. Which meant that the fighter who had been handling the grenades had been killed just as they were about to throw… and Jyn had been sitting squarely in the projected blast zone. 

Cassian had taken that shot, and moreover, he’d done it to protect her. He’d had to have known what the consequences would be, and he’d done it anyway. Moreover, there would only have been heartbeats for him to make his decision, which meant that he’d done so without hesitating. And now he was likely enjoying the same ‘hospitality’ as the pilot they had been sent to extract. Her honor - and the honor of her people - demanded that Jyn do her best for him to save him from as much of that fate as she could. 

“Because your idiot lacked sufficient situational awareness to realize that he had allies in his blast radius,” Jyn growled back at her questioner. “My partner did what anyone else would have done, to protect my skin from those who should know better.”

Jyn remembered vividly the scathing lecture she had once received from Saw upon the one and only time she had made that particular mistake. Which she had since repurposed multiple times during the rare occasions her own forces made similar errors. ‘Friendly fire’ was the single worst way to lose troops under her command, and if verbally singing those who came too close to it cut down on that kind of casualties, she would do it again in a heartbeat. It didn’t matter that this Tognath wasn’t one of her people: as Saw had once said, “Anyone who fights the Empire is an ally, anyone who does not is an obstacle.”  It was a shame that his forces no longer held to that maxim. 

“Enough!” a wavering, frail croak that once might have been a bark of command issued from the next chamber. Jyn looked, and could not reconcile the image she had of her mentor from the last time they had communicated, and the broken… broken wreck that stood before her now. “You are dismissed,” Saw Gerrera told the Tognath without looking at him, all attention focused on Jyn. Both of them were silent as the Tognath slunk away into the shadows with the rest of Saw’s fighters, leaving the two of them alone. 

“It’s been a while,” Jyn remarked eventually, her tone bland, simply talking to fill the empty silence that had filled the cavern since that initial moment of recognition. “What brought you to Jedha? Last I heard, you were still stirring things up on Toprawa.”

Saw ignored her false pleasantries. “Why have you come Jyn,” he asked softly, as if he had any idea of what the answer might be. Jyn didn’t have a clue what Saw thought she was doing here, and didn’t much care.

“The Alliance wants that pilot you captured. The one singing as loudly as he can about the new Imperial weapons project.” she kept the words blunt, unemotional, just doing the job. 

“That’s all?” Saw abruptly looked infinitely sad.

“Like that isn’t enough?” Jyn found herself asking, growing more and more cross. “A weapon that can target an entire planet at once isn’t something I want pointed at my people, not when we’re just starting to make a difference against the Empire.” And the sooner it was dealt with, the better, Jyn thought privately. The Solstice was only weeks away, and if her people missed this window, they’d have to wait an entire Valltii year for another such opening. But if the operation went forward as scheduled with the Empire’s weapon still prowling the stars, then everything she’d worked for since she was sixteen would be gone, along with the only home she’d ever been able to hang onto. 

“So you’re not here to kill me?” Saw looked like he couldn’t believe it. 

Jyn took several deliberate breaths, then looked her mentor up and down. She saw the poorly-constructed leg prosthetics, and the staff that Saw was forced to lean upon to stay upright. She saw the white hair, the breath mask, heard the wheeze of formerly powerful lungs. “It looks as if you don’t need any help with that,” she said as evenly as she could manage. 

Saw let out a long breath. “If you are not here to kill me, then what do you want from me?” he sighed.

“I told you. The pilot, assuming of course that he’s still functional enough to be of use.” Jyn’s hold on her temper was rapidly starting to erode, and the cryptic conversation wasn’t helping any. This had been a mistake. She wasn’t going to get any answers here. Saw was only a shell of his former self, and the signs were visible all around her that with the diminution of his physical strength, so had his hold over his men slipped as well. This meeting was even more dangerous than she’d thought it would be back on Vallt. 

“No!” his breath might be gone, but the intensity in Saw’s voice was still as strong as ever. “That is what Mothma wants. Or Draven, Organa, Dodonna, whoever it was that conceived of this mission. Before I tell you anything, I wish to know what you want.”

“What do I want?” Jyn’s voice went dangerously soft. “What I want,” her voice shaped the word into a vicious curse, “is for my people to live free of Imperial rule. What I want is for my contributions to the Cause to which I have dedicated my entire life to be recognized and acknowledged. What I want is to be able to face my enemy under my true name without worrying that either side will use me against my will or kill me for it. But I’m not likely to get any of that, now am I?”

“And how does coming here accomplish any of those goals?” Saw’s words reminded Jyn of when she had been just starting out in the Cadre, listening with her entire being as Saw lectured his forces on what their objective was for each particular operation, and why it furthered their long-term goals. Such lectures had dropped in frequency over the years, as time shortened, and the battles grew more desperate. Still, they touched a cord long since dormant within her, one that made her answer him.

“I’m in the final stages for a Call to Arms operation.” she said in a much softer tone, her eyes fearlessly meeting Saw’s. “It’s due to go live in just a few weeks. I can’t alter the date, it’s integral to the mission, but assuming that the Alliance Intel regarding this Imperial weapon is in any way accurate… I can’t take that risk. Not with my people at stake.”

“And do you trust the Alliance, child?” Saw asked, his voice dangerously soft.

Jyn’s first instinct was to say ‘No’. She thought of the exhausting rounds of negotiations with Draven, trying desperately to extort enough credits from him so her people could buy enough food and supplies to survive, while simultaneously preventing him from learning just a bit too much from his too-probing questions. She thought of a fresh-faced, Core World Princess - whose soft hands proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d never been in a serious fight in all of her sixteen years - having the collosal gall to lecture her on acceptable battlefield tactics. She thought of the whispers that permeated the Alliance - the ones they thought she didn’t know about - that openly questioned her commitment to the Cause, that wondered if perhaps the Alliance wouldn’t be better off without her. The ones that made her wonder if staying in the Alliance was worth all the effort it took after all. 

But she also thought of Cassian. Who hadn’t lied to her once - to the best of her knowledge anyway. Who had openly praised both her and her organization. Who had spoken to her of ‘hope’ and who was likely even now languishing in Saw’s brig because he’d prioritized her over the mission. The first one since she was eight years old to have done so. 

But it was more than that, she knew. She liked verbally sparring with his droid, and the blank look on his face when he realized how much she’d picked from his pockets had been hilarious.  He’d protected her, even at risk to both his own life and the mission. And Cassian knew the dirty side of the Alliance - knew it intimately because Jyn had known without being told that he was one of the few regularly chosen to take care of the dirty work when it was required - work that the pristine Senators on the Council would never acknowledge. And yet despite all that, Cassian believed in the Alliance. Believed in it like he he believed in his next breath. And if he could trust in the Alliance, then… maybe she could as well. 

“Yes.” she said, looking Saw directly in the eyes. She trusted Cassian, she could trust in his faith as well, even if she didn’t share in it herself. Saw watched her for a long moment, eyes dark and unreadable. He didn’t blink or look away, even as he unhooked the breath-mask from his armor and took several slow breaths before replacing it. 

“Come,” he said eventually, when the silence had begun to weigh on them. “There’s something you should see.”

He led her to another small, cramped room, most of the limited floor space taken up by what was clearly a hand-made holoprojector that had been cobbled together from various pieces of scrap. Jyn only recognized what it was because it was very much like the one she had in her headquarters back on Vallt. Clearly the desert sands hadn’t done the electronics any favors, she thought, glancing at the small, broken window that opened onto the cliff face. 

Jyn settled her back to one side of the curtained opening, unwilling to leave her back open, and equally unwilling to chance having the mess of the projector between her and the exit if the drifts continued to collapse around her the way they’d been. Saw only gave her caution an amused look as he stumped around the machine to fiddle with something on the far side. 

The hologram of a man appeared, dressed in a crisp Imperial Science uniform. The hair was a little longer than regulation, but the lack of insignia on his breast was what told her the man was a civilian. The face was familiar, but Jyn couldn’t place it. At least until the man opened his mouth and began to speak. 

{“Jyn,”} the man - Galen Erso - her father - began. {“My Stardust. I can’t imagine what you think of me. When I was taken, I faced some bitter truths. I was told that soon enough Krennic would have you as well. As time went by, I knew you that you were either dead, or so well hidden he would never find you. I knew that I had refused to work, or took my own life, I knew that it would only be a matter of time before Krennic realized that he no longer needed me to complete the project. So I did the one thing nobody expected: I lied. I learned to lie. Played the part of a beaten man resigned to the sanctuary of his work, I made myself indispensable, and all the while, I laid the groundwork of my revenge.”}

Jyn couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move past the once-familiar features her eyes were too-greedily devouring to pay any attention to the words her father was saying. She hadn’t believed, back on Vallt, when Cassian had told her that there was a possibility that Galen - her father - was getting ready to flip, she hadn’t believed him. She’d been much more concerned about protecting herself, protecting her secret, and hadn’t let herself think about her father in the slightest. Now here he was, all but declaring in the clear that he’d been under duress the entire time he’d been taken, and she didn’t know how to handle it. Didn’t know if it was possible.

{“We call it, the Death Star,”} Galen continued. {“There is no better name. And the day is coming soon when it will be unleashed. I’ve placed a weakness deep within the system, a flaw so small and powerful that they will never find it.”} That would make Cassian happy, Jyn thought with a distant tiny part of her brain, but the rest of her was too raptly focused on her father’s image to pay it much mind.

{“But Jyn, Jyn - if you are listening, my beloved, so much of my life has been wasted.”} the recording went on, {“I try to think of you only in the moments when I’m strong because the pain of not having you with me - your mother - our family… the pain of that loss is so overwhelming that I risk failing even now. It’s just so hard not to think of you. To think of where you are. My Stardust.”}

That was why she’d done it, Jyn knew. Why she’d locked her birth family into a little box inside her head and shoved it out of the way, sealed it in with the terror of The Cave - ironic since she primarily lived underground now. She’d pushed it all out of her head, and gone about the rest of her life, only now the seals were cracking, and she didn’t know if her walls could stand much more of this. 

{“So, the reactor module, that’s the key,”} Galen pushed forward, the brisk tone emblematic of just how difficult he found it to get the words he needed to  out. {“That’s the place I’ve laid my trap. It’s well hidden, and unstable. One blast to any part of it will destroy the entire station. You will need the plans, the structural plans for the Death Star to find the reactor. I know there’s a complete engineering archive, in a datavault at the Citadel Tower on Scarif. Any pressurized explosion to any part of the reactor module will set off a chain reaction that will destroy the entire station -”}

The hologram flickered for a second, then cut out. Jyn barely realized it, her mind had whitened out under all the shocks. She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what to do. 

She didn’t know anything anymore. 

()()()()

The only thing Krennic was certain of in that moment, was that he wanted Tarkin off his bridge. His bridge, the nerve center that controlled every aspect of the Death Star. Tarkin was an intruder, an interloper, but one who currently held the Emperor’s favor, simply because of his service in the Clone Wars. Where as Krennic, who had ascended the ranks through the Civilian Service, stood in constant fear of losing all he had gained. The injustice of it rankled deeply within his breast. It wasn’t fair that Krennic had done all the work on getting the Death Star operational, only for Tarkin to swoop in and claim the fruits and rewards of all that labor at the very end. 

But for all that, the formalities still had to be observed. This was an important occasion, and Tarkin’s elevated rank and Imperial favor automatically awarded him the status due an honored guest. It mattered not that Krennic would prefer Tarkin to be personally escorted out the nearest airlock - or if he had his true preferences, ejected from the station with the rest of the refuse when it next went to hyperspace. 

At least Krennic still had his staff, men he had hand-picked from among those who both knew the station’s systems, and - he hoped - were personally loyal to him, as he had personally been responsible for their present exalted status both in the Empire and aboard this station.His Chief of Staff Nethan Brant for example, had been facing a dishonorable discharge after his former captain had made several… unwise remarks in the presence of Brant and several officers of the Imperial Security Bureau. The captain had futility tried to save himself by incriminating Brant, and while the gambit hadn’t worked, the mere presence of an ISB investigation in Brant’s service record had been more than enough to sink Brant’s career. 

Krennic had only known Brant casually at the time, but Brant’s reputation for efficiency and organization had already been well known in the circles he regularly moved in. Not wanting to waste such potential, Krennic had called in a few favors, and had not only brought Brant onto his staff, but had managed to bury any shadows of disgrace so deeply that his record was effectively spotless once again. Brant had repaid Krennic’s efforts by immediately upping efficiency in construction by several orders of magnitude, until Krennic wasn’t sure how under the stars he had managed to get buy at all without his aid.

Brant himself was already standing by, ready to relay Krennic’s orders to the gunnery teams. Every team had to act in total harmony with the others to ensure the successful firing of the Weapon, and he was the only one Krennic trusted to ensure that everything went smoothly. The Death Star simply could not fail, and Brant was the man who would see it done. 

But still, events had to be undertaken in their proper order. “The Emperor is waiting for my report,” Tarkin murmured in an undertone to Krennic, as they watched Jedha swing into view on the main screen. 

“One would have thought he and Lord Vader might have been here for such an occasion,” Krennic shot back in the same tone. It would not due for word of animosity between them to become common knowledge in the rabble surrounding them. Appearances had to be respected after all.

“And I thought it prudent to save you from any potential embarrassment,” Tarkin purred.

“Your concerns are hardly warranted.” Krennic volleyed back, outwardly more confident than he truly felt. The Weapon’s success ratio in simulation was not nearly as high as he would like. Far too often, some small hitch would occur in the calibration arrays, or a minor hiccup would show itself in the exhaust system, or some ancillary subsystem would fail at a critical moment which would bring the entire endeavor to a screeching halt. Then the flaw would have to be tracked down, and the full weight of Imperial ingenuity thrown at the problem until it was beaten into submission. Galen Erso, the scientist in charge of the power enrichment arrays had been invaluable in proofing the entire system against even the slightest problem, until even his formidable mind had been assured that the project was as flawless as Imperial engineering could make it. Enough so that Krennic could stand here, before the gathered dignitaries and Tarkin, and believe in the Weapon’s success. 

“If saying it would only make it so.” Tarkin’s suddenly loud voice cut effortlessly through the low babble of conversation, leaving the entire room in complete silence. Krennic could only glare back in impotent frustration: he had never been able to command a room so, and it was all the more galling for it to happen on his own bridge.

Thankfully, Krennic had a response prepared. “All Imperial forces have been evacuated, and I stand ready to destroy the moon.” The order had gone out a full two standard hours ago, before the Death Star had even exited hyperspace, long enough for a disciplined commander to remove all Imperial assets from the area, but not nearly enough lead time - he hoped - for the deserting pilot to catch wind of the operation and lay in escape plans of his own. In any case, the Star Destroyer Formidable - previously assigned to peacekeeping efforts in the Holy City - had orders to detain or destroy all traffic leaving Jedha’s atmosphere up until the moment of the Death Star’s arrival.

“That won’t be necessary, we need a statement not a manifesto,” Krennic could almost feel the teeth of Tarkin’s trap closing around him, easily discernible in the man’s false joviality. “The Holy City will be enough for today.” 

Krennic ground his teeth. A small scale test, easily deniable should things go wrong. But the joke would be on Tarkin in the end, because the scale of the Weapon was far beyond Tarkin’s faintest dreams, even scaled back for the smaller target. “Prep for single-reactor ignition,” he ordered, cutting the power available to the Weapon by a third. “Target the Holy City.” A breath, as the view of the screen before them shifted fractionally, positioning the colossal dish on it’s mark. As the apparatus itself could not move, the station itself had to do the targeting calibrations. “Fire!” 

Behind him, Krennic heard Brant give the order: “Commence primary ignition.” The technicians obediently hit their controls, sending orders to the teams scattered around the station, each and every group doing it’s part to gather the requisite power, send it through the enrichment arrays, and funnel the results to the Weapon. Each output had to be precisely balanced, the slightest fraction of a decimal point off from any of the teams and the beams would not concentrate, and the Weapon would not fire. 

Krennic held his breath as the moment of truth arrived. This was where things had fallen apart so many times in simulation. But each beam coalesced in its proper position above the focusing mirror, and a single beam of green energy lanced away from the Death Star, punching through the crust and obliterating the target in an eyeblink. 

Krennic watched the result: the blooming colors of the explosion, the concussive clouds of shock rolling away from the central point in all directions. 

“Oh,” he said softly, as if faced with something new, rare, and infinitely precious. “It’s beautiful.”


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I had NO IDEA that this chapter would take this long. There's any number of reasons, but the long and the short of it is that I lost track of time working on any number of other things - my recent crafting bug, other chapters in this fic... etc. Also, this chapter ballooned out to MEGA size, and despite my earnest attempts, simply would not come together any sooner. 
> 
> Please comment and let me know if this chapter was worth the wait. There's a LOT that happens here, and I'm eager to hear how it all went down for you all. I honestly can't begin to speculate when the next chapter will come out, hopefully sooner than this one, but I'm not holding my breath. hopefully the long wait between chapters hasn't managed to TOTALLY kill off interest for this fic, and I still have an audience out there!!!

No one knew how extensive the kyber caverns were beneath the Temple. Perhaps the Guardians had once known, possibly even had once possessed maps, painstakingly hand-drawn in ink on archaic pressed-pulp flimsy. But when the Empire had taken over, no such maps were in evidence, and the monks weren’t interested in talking, particularly not since they had been evicted from their sanctuary to beg on the streets. And while the presence of the Temple - and the City surrounding it - ordinarily wouldn’t have prevented the Empire from pulverizing the area and sifting what minerals they wanted from the rubble, the idiosyncratic nature of the kyber itself had foiled them, forcing the Empire to pry each crystal from it’s home rock with organic labor. 

The vein the Empire was currently working had been rich enough for it’s purposes, even if it had recently begun to run dry. But no one, not the mine bosses, not the Garrison Commander, the Sector’s Governor, Tarkin, or Krennic himself had any idea just how much kyber remained beneath the earth, nor precisely what it would do to the energy currently being fired from the Death Star’s prime weapon.

The Death Star’s targeting array was rudimentary, but it didn’t need to be accurate, such was the power of the weapon. The beam missed the Temple itself by meters, burning straight through the streets, straight into the kyber-rich caverns in an instant. 

There, the energy bounced from facet to facet, crystal to crystal, multiplying and expanding with each milisecond jump as the kyber did what it did best: magnifying and enhancing the energy with its own resonance. Then, bare heartbeats after impact, it exploded outward in all directions. 

The mesa upon which the Holy City stood was instantly obliterated, all of the inhabitants killed before they ever realized their danger. Guided by the snaking veins of untapped kyber, the energy of the Death Star cracked the moon’s crust like a dish, and set the magma beneath to fountain upward like a boulder thrown with great strength into a still pond. So great was the sheer force of such destruction that the debris cloud formed beyond Jedha’s atmosphere, and ejected most of its initial fury into space, fountains of magma trailing off into strange, exotic streamers that more closely resembled nebulosities as the superhot material was rapidly cooled by exposure to the frozen reaches of vacuum. 

Below the atmosphere, things weren’t much better. The displaced crust, that which hadn’t been simply vaporized in the initial eruption, seemed to rise up, until what had once been the horizon line, now filled the entirety of the sky. From the ground, the earth seemed to invert, formerly solid ground rising up, and threatening to topple over everything in its path. 

()()()()()

Later, Jyn could never be sure if it was the shaking earth that had sent her to her knees, or simply the overwhelming shock of emotions long thought dead and buried, breaching their seal and flooding over her all at once. She never noticed the hologram shutting off, could not even see Saw’s concerned face from his position by the window. She rocked, insensate to her surroundings, her entire focus turned inward. 

All her memories of Galen Erso were dim, a child’s recollection viewed through the distortion of time. She remembered a voice, a name, soft hands cupping her face. The last words he’d spoken to her: “Everything I do, I do it to protect you. Tell me you understand.”

In the memory, her child self had parroted back her understanding, but Jyn could see now that she really hadn’t. What had her father meant by that? Had his intention been to give himself up, sacrificing himself to the Empire to give her mother and herself time to escape? As a leader, as a tactician, Jyn thought she understood his reasoning, maybe even respect it. Galen had been the target of the raid, the prize that the Man in White sought, clearly her father had hoped that the man chasing him would be satisfied with his catch, and leave his family alone. Evidently, that hadn’t worked, especially since Lyra Erso had refused to leave her husband behind, even when that meant abandoning her daughter. 

Abruptly her reverie was disturbed by Cassian roughly shaking her shoulders, his expression frantic. “-th, Tanith, we have Erso’s location, we have to go, we have to go now!”

Numbly, Jyn blinked up at him, wondering vaguely who he was talking to. Then, with a nearly audible snap, the pieces clicked together in her mind. Her active identity was Tanith Ponta, Rebel Leader, and Cassian was urging her on to complete the next stage in their mission, which was to… extract her father.

Jyn allowed Cassian to pull her to her feet, only then realizing that the caverns seemed to be coming down right on top of them. Jyn had spent too long in the Valltii caverns and tunnels to waste time wondering what was happening, clearly the priority was to evacuate as quickly as possible. Immediately she headed for the door, Cassian on her heels, when a call from Saw pulled her back. 

“Wait!” Half turning her body back toward her mentor, Jyn saw him fumbling at the base of the holoprojector, with no clear path toward safety. Saw didn’t even waste time trying to stand before he tossed something small and hard in Jyn’s direction, her hand reflexively catching it just like he’d trained her to. “Now go!” Saw wheezed, squeezing as much volume as he could from his ruined lungs to give the command. 

Jyn was running before she could see Saw struggle to his feet, holding onto first the projector, than a wall for as much balance as could be found. She could still hear him though, could hear his call urging speed to her flight. “Save the Rebellion,” he called after her. “Save the Dream.”

Jyn pelted through the collapsing tunnels, keeping every warning she’d ever heard about what to do in the event of cave-ins from her people in the upper part of her mind, lest the enormity of what she had recently witnessed overwhelm her again. Finally they reached the exit, following the last of Saw’s stragglers into the open air. 

Jyn staggered at the sight of unprecedented destruction, on such a scale that the mind shied away from contemplating the exact extent of what lay before it, even one that had spent much of the last few years listening to the stories and folktales of a culture that had good reason to be wary of the dangers inherent to the ground in which they lived. Groundquakes and tunnel collapses were the staples of Valltii nightmares, yet in all those tales and warnings, what Jyn had heard stressed over and over again was the safety of the open air in situations such as these.

Now, she was outside Saw’s stronghold, out in the light and air, and still the earth threatened to collapse over her. There it rose, high over her head, threatening to crash down like a great wave at any instant. 

Just ahead, K-2SO had brought the ship around, and the Mandalorian from the market was pushing his partner inside the hatch. Close on their heels was a slim young man with stringy dark hair, wearing dirty and sweat-stained coveralls with the Imperial emblem stamped on both shoulders. That would be the defecting cargo pilot,the one who had brought Saw the message Jyn had seen. 

Jyn lunged for the safety of the ship, the one refuge still available in this nightmare world. Cassian was right beside her, reaching the opening first, and throwing himself directly into the cockpit. Jyn hurtled after him, barely giving herself time to cross the threshold before she slammed the hatch closed, already adding her voice to the chorus screaming for Cassian and K2 to “GO!” already.

The ship shot away, not a moment too soon as Jyn caught a brief glimpse of Saw’s several snub fighters, too slow to lift, vanish beneath the onrushing destruction as the ground they were resting on shattered and was sucked up into the storm of chaos. Not that there was much to see from the small viewport set into the hatch, but based on what little Jyn could see, Jedha appeared to be shaking itself apart from the inside out. But from the sudden darkness blocking out most of the light, the incredible wave of debris had begun to break and was coming down right on top of them-----!

Abruptly the light in the cabin abruptly shifted, from the darkening destruction of Jedha, to the cool hues of hyperspace. Internal lighting abruptly activated, illuminating the three near-to-total strangers Jyn found herself sharing a cabin with. 

Thankfully, they all seemed to be as shell-shocked as she was. Both the pilot and the mandalorian stared silently around the small space, as if wondering just what it was they’d gotten themselves into. Only the monk was speaking, his tone full of horrified confusion. “Baze,” he murmured to his partner, as if he were physically incapable of raising his voice, “Baze. The City, tell me, what happened?” 

No one had any answers for him. Belatedly, Jyn remembered that he was blind, and thus had been spared the sense of nightmarish horror at the sight of the moon literally coming down on him. No one would be rushing to tell him the tale of exactly what he’d missed, however. The terror was still too fresh in their own minds. 

A sudden pain in her hand drew Jyn’s gaze down to where she found that she was clutching frantically at some object in her hand, gripping it so tightly her muscles were beginning to cramp and the hard grooves of whatever it was digging painfully into her flesh. Carefully, she unbent her fingers sufficiently to reveal a holochip, the same one that had contained her father’s message about the Empire’s project, their Death Star. Icemelt filled her veins as she abruptly realized that she had just witnessed what had to be the first real test of the Empire’s new weapon - witnessed it from the ground.

All her previous doubts and hesitations about cooperating fully with the Alliance seemed to be so petty now. She’d known from Cassian’s description back on Vallt that this new weapon was a threat, but she now knew that she hadn’t been nearly able to imagine what it was capable of.  No one could. The size and scope was beyond all imaginings. 

“I was too late…” at first Jyn wasn’t certain where the thin and reedy voice was coming from. Then she realized that it was coming from the young man in the dingy pilot’s uniform, slumped against the bulkhead, shaking with his head in his hands. “Galen told me that there was still time, that I could still make a difference… but I was just too late…”

“No, you weren’t,” Jyn said abruptly, letting the words land with a ‘thud’ on the deck, catching the focused attention of everyone in the cabin, though she kept her eyes on the pilot.

“You brought the message?” she asked, knowing the answer, but needing to hear it confirmed. At the shallow nod, Jyn continued. “I’ve seen it. It tells of a flaw, built deep inside the Death Star, that’s what they call it. A flaw powerful enough to destroy the entire station. With it, we can make them pay for what they just did.”

“How?” that was Cassian, standing just inside the entryway to the cockpit. “How could Erso get something so critical past the Empire?”

“The reactor,” Jyn told him with a calmness she didn’t feel. “It’s rigged to blow at the first jar. One pressurized explosion to any part of the module, and the entire station goes with it.”

Cassian’s dark eyes searched her face, skeptical, but wanting to believe. Even without looking directly at them, Jyn could feel the three Jedhans building excitement, they would want revenge for their world, but she had plenty of experience using and channeling revenge into actually constructive directions so it didn’t worry her. Cassian was the hold out. Convince him, she would convince everyone. 

“The reactor?” Cassian wasn’t disbelieving, just cautious. “How are we supposed to access that?”

“There’s a complete technical readout of the plans on Scarif,” Jyn reported. “Acquiring that would be step one.” 

Cassian was already shaking his head. “Have you ever been to Scarif?” he demanded.

The pilot raised one hand. “I have.” Cassian glared him into silence. 

“No,” Jyn had to admit. “But if you have, I’m open to suggestions.”

Cassian shook his head. “We’ve set course for Eadu. Erso’s supposed to be there, hopefully we can get his take on all this.”

“We already do,” Jyn reminded him. “The message, remember?”

“That’s not going to be enough.” Cassian’s voice was adamant. “Scarif is enough of a deathtrap that no one on the Council will approve an operation there without concrete proof that this will work. Erso’s expertise will lend our proof all the more weight, maybe enough to make them listen.”

“I hope you’re right,” Jyn sighed, dropping the argument. “I really do.”

()()()()()

Vindication. The feeling of it filled Krennic’s veins as the reaction from Jedha finally began to subside. He had always known the potential power of the weapon since shortly after the Emperor had handed him the task of completing it, but seeing the proof with his own eyes.... There was no feeling like it. 

Tarkin’s voice broke through the stunned silence that had taken over the room. “I believe I owe you an apology, Director Krennic. Your work exceeds all expectations.”

It was more than Krennic had dared to dream, hearing those words. “Will you tell the Emperor as much?” he asked, the words feeling strangely thick and slow as they left his mouth. 

“I will tell him that his patience with your misadventures has been rewarded with a weapon that will bring a swift end to the Rebellion.” Tarkin said crisply, the precise tone ringing alarm bells in Krennic’s mind. But Tarkin had said nothing he could directly protest as of yet. 

“And that was only an inkling of its true destructive potential.” It was important that the proper context be made clear in Tarkin’s report. 

“I will tell him that I will be taking control of the weapon that I first spoke of years ago, effective immediately.” 

For a long heartbeat, Krennic saw red. For that fleeting heartbeat, he imagined himself Lord Vader, with the ability to lay waste to his enemies with a breath of thought; failing that, if he had found himself with a weapon to hand he would have fired without hesitation or remorse, spraying the air with bolts. 

But Krennic’s talent had always lain in the construction of weapons, not their implementation or usage. He forced a brief, humorless laugh, before the words burst from his chest. “We stand here amid my achievement, not yours!” he spat, advancing on Tarkin menacingly.

Tarkin didn’t so much as twitch. “I’m afraid the recent security breaches have laid bare your inadequacies as a military director.”

“The breaches have been filled,” Krennic promised with a poisonous smile. “Jedha has been silenced.” As the display on the viewscreen still showed. If there was anything still alive on the moon, it wouldn’t be for much longer. 

“You think this pilot acted alone?” Tarkin’s thin lips were still twisted in their superior smirk, the one Krennic longed to obliterate the same way he had the Holy City. “My sources tell me that had just been dispatched from the Eadu facility when he disappeared. Which could indicate that someone there could have encouraged his futile efforts to defect.”

Krennic wanted to deny that possibility out of hand. Eadu was Galen’s lab, and his old friend had been a dutiful servant of the Empire ever since Krennic had retrieved him on La’mu. Any leak from Eadu could implicate Galen as well, even if was simply as project lead and not because he was directly involved. 

Most likely, Krennic consoled himself, the culprit was a minor lab technician, bright enough to grasp the purpose of the work being done on Eadu, but too low level to do any real damage. Though even that possibility still raised the question of how such a potential traitor had made it through the psychological screenings, but that was a problem to be solved another day. Preferably by some means by which he could implicate Tarkin, and wrest back control of his project.

But in the moment, he was outmatched. “Fine!” If Tarkin wanted the Station so bad, he could have it. The Death Star was cranky and idiosyncratic as befitted a beyond-top-secret prototype. It just so happened that everyone of consequence who knew how to operate it owed their lives and careers to Krennic, so if he went, so did they. Let’s see how the Emperor - and Tarkin - liked it when their precious weapon was reduced to a hulk trapped in space, unable to go anywhere or fire it’s awesome Weapon. “Brant! We’re leaving.”

Krennic turned on his heel, and made it half a dozen strides before he realized that Brant wasn’t following. He turned back, building up a fine head of steam, before he saw --

Brant, standing at attention to Tarkin’s elbow. Brant calmly met Krennic’s furious eyes before he deliberately turned to Tarkin. “Your orders Sir?”

Tarkin smiled, a coy, poisonous expression that seemed to be a living embodiment of his malice. “Please prepare a report as to the Station’s current operational status. It wouldn’t do to have incomplete information on hand when I brief the Emperor.”

Brant nodded, still at strict attention. “Very good, Sir.” without another word, he saw himself out, heading for the exit on the opposite side of the room, turning his back on Krennic. 

For a long instant, Krennic could only stand there, dumbfounded and enraged. Just how had Tarkin managed to suborn Brant, who out of all of Krennic’s people should have remained loyal, even to to the death. If he had turned, could anyone be counted upon? Could Galen? 

“Was there something more you needed, Director?” Tarkin’s false question jerked Krennic out of his paralysis. He had no more place here, not until he managed to get to the bottom of this matter. Without answering the leech, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room. 

He couldn’t believe that Galen was involved in the treason somehow, not after all the man had done in the name of the project, not when he had not only figured out how to power the weapon, but prevent all inside the Death Star from instantly dying in the rebound. Galen had given so much, solved so many of their problems - problems Krennic’s other designers hadn’t even realized existed but would have crippled their progress without Galen’s genius to overcome what would otherwise be insurmountable odds. 

One way or another, he would find the truth. And the only place answers could be found, was Eadu. 

()()()()()

Eadu was a depressing mudpit of a world - about as far from Jedha’s desert as it was possible to get. Not that Jyn could see much of it, given that they’d arrived during the planet’s night cycle and in the middle of a driving storm. After so many years primarily living underground, she simply wasn’t used  to the power of planetary weather, and was therefore huddled against an internal bulkhead, trying not to look out the viewports. The single glimpse she’d managed - their small ship narrowly avoiding disaster via collision with one of the innumerable narrow, rain-etched, jagged spires they were flying through to confuse Imperial sensors - had been harrowing. 

Resting her cheek against the cool metal of the ship, Jyn tried to block out the tense exchanges filtering out from the cockpit as Bodhi Rook - the pilot - tried desperately to keep Cassian and K2 on course through the labyrinthine maze of spires surrounding the Eadu facility, and concentrate on what exactly was waiting for her at their destination: her father. 

It had been years since they’d seen each other last. Jyn had been a child then, an innocent whom her parents had tried desperately to protect and keep out of harm's way. Jyn hadn’t been able to immediately recognize her father when she’d first seen his hologram, would he be able  to recognize her, despite how much she’d changed? 

Did she want him to know her? That was the question really. If Galen Erso recognized her, if he identified her as his daughter… her cover would be gone. Her identity would be exposed. All the work she had done to keep herself safe and secret from the Alliance would be for nothing. Was she willing to risk such a thing happening? Did she even have a choice?

Up front, there was a sudden rise in chatter coming from the cockpit, when a tremendous ‘bang’ shook the ship. From the immediate rise in panicked voices coming from the cockpit, and the way the deck lurched beneath her feet, they’d struck something, possibly clipped one of the many spires all around them, and were headed down whether they wanted to or not.  

This was why she hated flying, Jyn thought desperately as she lunged for whichever handhold was nearest in the spare cabin. When things went wrong on a ship - which they often did - there was often very little she could do to affect the outcome. 

Somehow, Jyn wasn’t exactly sure how, they made it to the ground alive and in reasonably one piece, though Jyn could recognize by the way the power was flickering that it would take a miracle - not to mention time they didn’t have - to make the ship spaceworthy again. 

“Alright.” Cassian’s voice was crisp as he issued orders and instructions as he exited the cockpit. “Bodhi, you’re with me. I’m going to need your help to infiltrate the facility, and hopefully find Dr Erso’s lab with a minimum of fuss. After I’m in, I want you to scout around, see if there’s any available transport we can use to get ourselves out of here. Kay, standard salvage procedure. Strip this hulk of everything we can use, destroy anything remaining that would lead back to the Alliance. --”

“What about me?” Jyn asked, breaking into his stream of words. 

He barely glanced at her, his attention already occupied with breaking down and secreting various pieces of equipment into a vast assortment of pockets in his jacket - evidently knowing better than to try to sneak a bag or satchel into an Imperial lab. “You sit tight. It’s not that I don’t trust you -” he said, steamrolling over her instinctive protest, “or that I don’t believe that you would be an asset inside, but you’re the one carrying the message, that has to get through, especially if for any reason we can’t get Erso out. Also, you’re too integral to your own operations to risk unnecessarily, there’s a reason why cell leaders rarely take the field if they can help it at all.” 

Jyn made a face, hating that he was right. Much as she hated sitting on her hands when there was a job to be done, there were times when it truly was the right thing to do. 

At least she wasn’t the only one sidelined. “What about us?” the Mandalorian - she thought his name was Baze - asked gruffly, indicating his partner with a jerk of his head.

Cassian was already shaking his head. “Both of you would be a hindrance, not a help in there. The two of you are way too obvious, I’m going for a quick and clean infiltration and extraction. Ideally, the first time the Empire even realizes we were ever here, is when they realize that Dr Erso hasn’t showed for morning roll call while we’re already sectors away.” Finished packing his jacket, Cassin jerked his head at the pilot. “You ready?” he asked. 

The pilot looked pale, but nodded resolutely. “Good man,” Cassian told him, clapping him on the back in encouragement. “Lead the way.” 

()()()()

It took longer than Cassian had thought to climb to the top of the ridge overlooking the Imperial facility. Consequences of the crash, he supposed, nothing that could truly be helped about that. At least this current spot brought with it a sweeping overview of the entire facility, both the field scattered with various classes of ships and shuttles, and the lab itself with appeared to be set into the cliff itself. 

“Ok, here,” Bodhi - the pilot - said, jerking Cassian’s attention to the the landing field spread out before them, and the midsize building set nearest to the cliff edge. “Cargo landing field. Landing pad out front is just for passenger traffic and VIPs. That over there is the pilot barracks, where we eat, sleep, and use the head between runs.”

“Good work,” Cassian told him, scanning the area with the detached sniper scope he’d brought in lieu of his macrobinoculars - which he wouldn’t have dared to bring even if Tanith had yet to return the pair she’d borrowed on Jedha. “What’s the best way to Dr Erso’s lab from here?’ 

“Through the barracks,” his companion answered. “Far end of the common room, there’s a short passage into the main lab complex. Likely was built to be an emergency escape, you have no idea how common mudslides and flooding are here. The Lab is built right into the cliff-face, and Galen - Dr Erso’s lab is right at the top. Exit the stairwell, pass the cargo turbolift where they move the finished product to the packing area, turn right at the first corridor, and you’re there. Only door in that part of the lab that opens.”

“Thanks,” Cassian said shortly, taking one last scan of the area before he moved out. Then a thought occurred to him, and he turned to fix a concerned eye on his partner. “Will you be alright out here by yourself?” 

“Me?” the look on the younger man’s face was nearly comical in it’s surprise. 

“I’m needed inside  to get Dr. Erso out,” Cassian reminded him gently. “The others are back on the ship, they can’t get around as easily as we can. They’re waiting for you to pick out a ship so we all can get out of here. Can you do that?”

Bodhi thought about it for a second, then nodded firmly. “I can.”

“Good man.” With a clap around the shoulders for good luck, Cassian left him there, pausing only long enough to be sure that he was actually headed to the airfield where the hulking shapes of several cargo shuttles were only just visible in the murky darkness. 

At least the directions to the lab proved to be good, and Cassian soon found himself in front of the correct door without any trouble. Still, he hesitated before reaching for the controls. This was all going a little too well. Aside from their narrow escape on Jedha, this entire plan was coming together just a little too smoothly - from Tanith’s unexpected ready agreement back on Vallt, to the pilot they’d needed to find stationed just outside Cassian’s cell in Saw Gerrera’s stronghold. The Universe didn’t like it when things were easy - more often than not there would be some sort of spanner thrust point-deep into the works, the well of good luck running dry.

‘In and out’ Cassian coached himself through minor panic attack. ‘Grab Erso, meet back up with the others, get out before the Empire ever knows we’re here.’

Carefully, Cassian palmed open the door, the mechanism opening smoothly without barely any noise. He slipped inside, flattening himself against one wall to minimize his exposure while he got his barings. 

The room he found himself in was fairly large, well appointed, clearly set up for some sort of scientific work. Workstations were set around three walls, while some large apparatus of whose function Cassian couldn’t immediately identify took up the majority of the fourth. Despite the best efforts of the cleaning droids, it was clear that this room saw a lot of use: piles of flimsy coated more than one workstation, at least three caff cups waited in the small corner sink to be washed. And one older man, studying something on one of the smaller screens set into one of the far workstations, who looked up from his work as Cassian entered. 

As the man straightened up and turned to face him, Cassian was struck by a strong sense of recognition: something about his eyes, the intensity behind them felt familiar for some reason. He’d seen it before, but couldn’t immediately recall where. 

At least he was able to identify him from the dossier holo Draven’s slicers had managed to uncover before the operation began. “Who are you?” the man, Dr. Galen Erso demanded of Cassian. 

“Dr. Erso?” Cassian asked, just to be certain. He didn’t want to identify himself as Alliance just yet, in case this wasn’t actually Galen Erso. Of course, if this man wasn’t him, Cassian would no doubt be forced to kill him to prevent him from sounding the alarm. The thought gave him no pleasure to contemplate, but the Rebellion was worth more than one life. 

“Yes?” the man answered hesitantly. “Who are you?”

“I’m with the Alliance,” Cassian said quickly, not wanting to get into names given their surroundings. “I’m here to get you out. Bodhi Rook told me where to find you.”

“Bodhi?” The man - Dr. Erso - brightened, an edge of wariness falling from his posture. “He’s well?”

“He’s alive,” Cassian assured him, not wanting to get into any pesky details regarding how ‘well’ Bodhi Rook was after his time with Saw Gerrera. 

“Good, good,” the other man said fervently. “I’m glad he’s safe.”

Cassian bit his lip to avoid commenting on exactly how safe the young man was at the moment. Stealing a shuttle from the Empire could rarely be classed as such, even when the Empire had little to know reason such a theft was taking place. There were always unexpected obstacles - a stormtrooper out of place, an overly-inquisitive officer wanting to know what was happening, an unexpected code change rendering what had once been an easy pickup into one that was fraught with peril. Cassian wouldn’t have let him go on his own ordinarily - but the sooner they got Dr. Erso out, the better, and none of the others could so easily walk around the landing field. The pilot was at least wearing the proper uniform, and knew all of the latest codes to the area. It would have to be enough. 

“Did he at least pass along my message?” Erso wanted to know, walking to another workstation and beginning to gather up the flimsy scattered there. It had the look of nervous habit, something to keep the fingers busy while the mind raced ahead, covering the problem at hand from all angles.

“Yes, we have it,” Cassian assured him, watching the twitching fingers and firmly stifling his own sympathetic response. “Once we get you out, we can bring both you and it to the Alliance at once.”

Dr. Erso mulled that over. Then the older man visibly brightened as a thought occurred to him. “Did Jyn send you?”

Cassian felt something in his gut twist. He hadn’t wanted to get into this for a reason. He was going to break the man’s heart, he knew it, but he needed Erso’s cooperation too much to lie, even if it would make things easier in the short term.

“According to my sources, Jyn has been dead for years.” Cassian did his best to soften the blow, but watching the other man all but crumple under the weight of it, knew it for a losing battle. There was no way to blunt this kind of loss, not in the timeframe they had.

As expected, Erso slumped against the counter, his grip on its edge the only thing keeping him from complete collapse. Cassian knew what this was. He’d seen it too many times with new recruits to the Alliance cause. They’d get out, only to discover that while they had managed to get to safety, the Empire’s reprisals had caught up their family or friends in their stead. Sometimes the news didn’t reach them for months, possibly even years, but when it hit it always flattened them for days, weeks, possibly even months at a time. Cassian had been lucky: all his birth family had been long dead by the time he’d joined up. There had simply been no one left for him to lose.

“If you have my message, then you don’t need me,” Erso eventually was able to rasp out, tears and grief clearly audible in his voice. “Everything you need to know is on there. I haven’t the slightest idea on what would be the best way to get to the reactor - I wasn’t consulted on anything outside my limited area of expertise. I can give you vague dimensions, power requirements with the weapon both quiescent and active. Little more.” 

“That’s not why we need you,” Cassian said quickly, even if it had been the exact reason given when the order to extract the scientist had been issued. “The scale of the Weapon is beyond anyone’s comprehension. And my superiors know just enough about Scarif to know that it’s virtually impregnable. There will be those on the Alliance Council who will think that an assault on Scarif is too risky, that it would be more useful to beg the Empire for their lives. But both of us know that the Empire will use any excuse, the slightest pretext, to use the Death Star. Once that happens, the excuses will get weaker and weaker, until the Empire reigns over a galaxy of ash.”

“And what can I do to prevent that?” Erso asked hollowly. “My word is worth less than nothing these days.” he shook his head, sounding broken, disgusted, defeated. “For either side.”

“The sheer weight of your presence will do a lot more than you think it will,” Cassian argued. “It’s one thing to disbelieve a report, or a holomessage, but it’s quite another to face down a flesh and and blood argument standing before you, demanding action.” A breath, then Cassian played his trump card. “It’s what Jyn would have wanted.”

He couldn’t know that for certain. After all, Cassian had never had the chance to meet Jyn Erso in life, but he was confidant in his assessment regardless. He had had the opportunity to take the measure of Saw Gerrera - however briefly; and the little information he had been able to find on Jyn had indicated that Saw had been the one to personally recruit her when her father had been taken by the Empire, when Jyn had been little more than a child. He also had gotten to know Tanith Ponta, who had not only fought beside Jyn for years, but had evidently been close enough to her that Jyn hadn’t hesitated to take a fatal shot for her sister-in-arms. Put that together, and the picture of a fighter emerged, someone who would use any means at her disposal to accomplish the mission. 

The Jyn who had fought with Saw, who had died for Tanith, would have let nothing, certainty not long odds, prevent her from accomplishing this mission.  But Cassian was also enough of a realist to know that many in the Alliance were not nearly so dedicated. Plenty of the Council members were Senators, who had joined the Cause not because the Empire needed to be fought, but because the Emperor had restricted the level of power they had held under the Republic. Most of that sort treated the Rebellion as if it were simply another committee in the Senate, a place to wrangle for influence and prestige. Not all of them were like that, it was true, but those that were would also be the first to argue against any action at Scarif, no matter how essential for everyone’s collective survival. 

Which only made Dr. Erso’s testimony all that more important.  His academic credentials were impeccable - something that mattered to the more snooty members of the Council - and his first-hand experience with the project would make all but the most skeptical take him seriously. Even the pilot didn't have the same kind of knowledge, or the qualifications that would allow his statements to be taken seriously. 

Erso shuddered again, sagging even deeper against the console. Cassian was a hair’s breadth from simply drugging the man and smuggling him out of the facility against his will, when the scientist seemed to come to a decision. 

“Alright,” he said softly, straightening. “I'll do it. For Jyn.”

Cassian breathed out a sigh of relief. But before he could even begin to discuss exfiltration with the scientist, the lab intercom began to blare. 

{“All lab personnel. Director Krennic is on final approach. Please immediately  assemble on the main landing pad to receive his inspection.”}

Cassian looked to Erso. “How long do we have until he arrives and your presence is missed?”

Erso shook his head. “No time at all. Minutes at best. Krennic and I went to school together, which means I know most, if not all of his tricks. He likes to leave these announcements until the last moment, so that no one has the chance to duck away to check in on an experiment in process while he is on approach. And should I simply fail to show up, he'll have his personal squad of soldiers comb the facility until they find me.” He gave Cassian a bitter look. “I tried that once, shortly after he retrieved me to work on this project. Three of my assistants who were not nearly as valuable to the end result as I was paid the price for that mistake.” 

So much for the possibility that Dr. Erso had been a willing collaborator, Cassian thought wryly, and with no small amount of relief. It had been a concern, back in the planning stages of the mission. So much so, that Chancellor Mothma had been forced to compel Draven by his oath to the Alliance that he wouldn’t give any of his operatives an elimination order. 

Cassian would have likely been the one to receive that order, which would then have been his duty to carry out. Instead, Galen Erso had been operating under duress this entire time, which just made Tanith’s slightly-incoherent report of a fatal flaw built in into the power systems all that more plausible. “What do you suggest we do?” he asked, more to judge the other man’s wits than anything else. He had a few ideas, but he didn’t know the facility or what there were to expect in its confines. 

Erso cast around the lab, his eyes landing on a locker less than three feet away from Cassian’s position. “That’s the emergency locker, it’ll have a spare set of the coveralls we keep on hand for accidents in the labs that would necessitate stripping down.” He was already hauling the locker open, tossing the garment on its hanger to Cassian. “Put that on. Keep to the back, Krennic tends to ignore the lower ranked staff unless he has a compelling reason not to.” Cassian was already changing, stripping off his jacket and filling the pockets of the coverall with the necessities it had contained.

“Ok,” Erso breathed, once Cassian was dressed, his hair finger-combed into an approximation of Imperial regulation. Not that it would matter soon, the main landing pad was open to the elements and most of the lab personnel would have their hair plastered to their skulls in moments thanks to Eadu’s usual torrential downpour, but that was no reason to get sloppy.  “Ok, our best bet is to see what he wants, and then try to get away once he leaves. It shouldn’t take too long, he never stays here longer than he has to, too many ‘important meetings’ for him to ‘waste time’ here.”

Cassian watched in fascination as Erso took a deep breath, then carefully slid a look of cautious unconcern onto his face, the perfect look for a project head who’s superior was making an unexpected visit. It was masterfully done, the perfect look for the loyal Imperial scientist Erso had pretended to be for over a decade and a half. Even Cassian - good as he was - if he hadn’t seen the transformation, there was a decent chance he would have been fooled by the facade. He found himself awarding Erso mental points as he followed the scientist out into the rain. 

Once there, Cassian hung back with the small crowd of lab technicians huddling together near the back of the landing platform. One or two of them gave him odd looks as they clearly didn’t remember him among their ranks, but Cassian knew well how to deflect that kind of suspicion. He eyed the suspicious techs right back, and drifted closer to two who seemed quite unconcerned with his presence. Satisfied by his apparent belonging to some facet of the group, all eyes quickly turned to the shuttle just now settling on the pad. 

Cassian watched as Galen stepped forward to meet the man who was just now following his security escort down the ramp. Three other men - clearly the other scientists working at the project, followed a step and a half behind. The techs stayed where they were.

Cassian took the opportunity to look over Director Krennic, head of the Death Star project. Older, dressed in Special Operations white with a cape of meritorious service wrapped around his shoulders. A standard issue cap was jammed on his head, shielding his eyes from the driving rain, the dark color incongruous against his starkly white clothes. Even from his far vantage point, too far away to hear what was being said between Krennic and Erso, Cassian marked the man as dangerous. It was there in the pinched look of his face, the thwarted anger that was shouted from the tense lines of his shoulders. This was not a man who was coming to congratulate a team over the successful test of the Death Star on Jedha.  No, this was a man who was desperate to make someone who was not him pay for his humiliations. 

Watching Erso talk to the man, clearly trying to keep it together and not let on to Cassian’s presence in the back, Cassian felt a tingle that was in no way due to the inclement weather race its way down his spine. He had a very bad feeling about this. 

()()()()

Director Krennic didn’t try to modulate his expression as he stepped from the comfortable confines of his ship into the viciousness that was Eadu’s typical weather, cursing once again the security constraints that necessitated locating such an important lab on so inclement a world. Krennic hated it here, and he had never been one to keep small miseries to himself: there were reasons beyond vanity behind his decree that Galen muster his full staff to greet his every arrival.

And here Galen was now, front and center, walking as fearlessly up to Krennic as if this were an ordinary inspection. Of course, as far as the scientist could know, it was. “Director Krennic,” his old friend greeted him, nodding his head in respect. 

Krennic pasted on a smile. The formalities had to be observed. “Galen,” he said, tone lightly chiding. “How many times to I have to remind you to call me Orson?”

“At least once more,” Galen replied with a rueful laugh. “Besides, you are the one ultimately in charge here. None of what we have accomplished here would have been possible without your vision.”

“You give yourself too little credit!” Beneath his usual modest protest, something in Krennic was simultaneously soothed and puffed up with pride. At least someone recognized his genius and contributions. “But speaking of accomplishments, I have good news for everyone! First, is everyone here?”

Galen eyed him nervously, evidently seeing through the front of false joviality that Krennic was exuding. “I’ve long since learned my lesson on that score Orson. There is no need to impart it again. Everyone under my command is here.”

“Good, good.” Krennic waved the suspicion away. The cargo pilots were outside of Galen’s authority, and for that matter, likey busy with runs taking them across half the sector, if not farther. Rounding all of them up and personally ensuring their silence was another matter, but one that would be easily dealt with once he had taken care of the scientists. “Tell your people to gather ‘round, I have good news that everyone needs to hear.”

He watched as Galen gathered his people to listen to the upcoming announcement. The contingency orders he’d issued from hyperspace were already being carried out by the small garrison attached to the lab. The scientists couldn’t see what was happening, but already the various doors back into the lab were watched and guarded by stormtroopers, the emergency ladders leading down to the canyon floor from each end of the landing pad sealed off. The traitor - whoever he was - had nowhere left to run, and was half-caught already. They just didn’t know it yet. 

“I have good news for all of you!” Krennic announced, projecting his voice so that even the riff raff standing to the back of the platform could hear him. “I have just come from the first official test of the Project.” Careful, some of the peons weren’t cleared to know just what the Project entailed. He was not about to compound the earlier disaster of security any further than he had to. “And I am pleased to announce that it was an unqualified success!”

Even with Tarkin ordering him to limit power to the beam, Jedha was completely uninhabitable by now. Not only was the atmosphere completely gone, but if the projections he had ordered done on his way here were in any way accurate - then at least a quarter of Jedha’s total landmass was completely gone, and the the total physical destruction projected to equal or exceed a full third of the moon’s total mass, counting asteroids that would eventually either form a ring or fall into and possibly burn up in NalJedha’s atmosphere.  Krennic’s experts weren’t expecting what was left to stick around long either. Gravitational stresses would no doubt wear away quickly at what was left of Jedha, and within the next century - two at the most - there would be nothing but a cluster of asteroids to mark where the moon had once been. 

There was… far less enthusiasm to his news than Krennic had anticipated. No cheers, a few hands made desultory applause, but even that quickly petered out into silence punctuated by a few scattered whispers. Even the most enthusiastic looked more uneasy than not in a way that made Krennic’s hackles rise. Just how widespread was this treason? His plan to get Galen out of this mess was looking more and more unlikely by the minute. 

“Unfortunately, this momentous news was not my only reason for coming here,” Krennic continued. “It has come to my attention that there is one among your number who has not fully committed to the great work that we are accomplishing here. One among your number colluded with a traitorous transport pilot who died while attempting to spread word of what is happening here. That attempt was unsuccessful, but I will not suffer traitors to live and work alongside loyal citizens of the Empire.” 

He signaled, and the head of his personal guard forged into the crowd, gathering up the technicians who had been attempting to hide in the back, bringing them all forward. They were, after all, the most likely suspects.  “If the traitor gives themself up peaceably, no further harm will come to any one of you. But if I am forced to dig them out….” he let his words trail off meaningfully. 

No one moved. “So be it.” They had made their choice, and therefore deserved no mercy. Drawn by the stink of fear, Krennic homed in on a frozen woman situated at one end of the line to begin. 

()()()()

Baze could almost smell Tanith’s agitation smoking off her as she prowled the small cabin, pacing circle after circle until Baze was almost ready to shoot her, if only to make her be still. Even the damned droid was of no help in curtailing her movements, occupied as it was by meticulously sorting through all sorts of cubbyholes and consoles - removing or casually destroying whatever seemed to strike it’s fancy. Baze was too occupied by the girl to spare any real attention to what it was up to. 

Two things stopped him from taking action. On the one hand, from her movements, Tanith was good; nearly as good as Chirrut, possibly better, not to mention that she was clearly armed in some fashion. If he attacked her, she would respond in kind, and then things would only escalate until everyone left on board was dead. 

The other reason was that Chirrut was clearly fascinated by her, and wasn’t making any kind of move to quiet her. That wasn’t like Chirrut, and the incongruity was enough to keep Baze where he was, alert and on watch as always. This could still go badly, but Chirrut was usually intuitive enough to know when he was actually in danger, as compared to the appearance of danger. Baze had just about broken him of the habit of conflating the two, and would inform him if one situation became the other. In exchange, Baze didn’t hover over him as close as he’d done before they’d worked out their deal

“What sort of man do you think this Galen Erso is, that we would expend such effort to rescue him?” Chirrut abruptly mused aloud, only apparently to the air. Baze wasn’t fooled in the slightest. That was Chirrut’s ‘philosopher voice’, his debating voice, the one he used to ask probing questions designed to provoke a response. 

Unlike Baze, Tanith hadn’t yet learned that the only defense against that voice was stubborn silence. “He’s a defector. One who has important information to share.”

Baze disagreed. “A traitor, you mean.” He’d heard enough from the pilot’s chatter during the journey here to have learned that the crystals the Empire had been stealing from Jedha had all been sent here, to this lab, for ‘processing.’  That made Galen Erso, as the scientist in charge, ultimately responsible for the long rape of Baze’s home. 

“That all depends on who is betraying whom?” Tanith shot back. “According to the Empire, all of us are traitors. The only real difference between a defector and a traitor is who uses which name.”

“Yes, names can be tricky things,” Chirrut said only apparently mildly. Baze knew him well enough to hear the shrewdness lurking beneath the words, could almost feel the probing dance to discover… exactly what Baze didn’t know. “For some, they are a mere description. For others, an anchor, a link to a past left behind. For others still a mask, a front to hide behind to protect the self, or a chain by which to bind oneself to pain.”

Tanith, Baze saw with unease, had gone very, very still, like one of the salt sculptures once carved by the Temple as meditation aids, liable to crumble into dust at the first harsh touch. 

“What do you know,” Tanith breathed, one hand slipping inside her coat. Baze tracked that hand, throttling the urge to immediate tackle her to the deck to defend Chirrut from the weapon she was no doubt reaching for. But Chirrut had to know just how far he was pushing her, and could handle himself for at least as long as it took for Baze to put her down permanently if her reaction was that bad. 

“Know? About you?” Chirrut grinned cheekily at her. “Absolutely nothing. Save for that knowledge which the Force sees fit to grant me.”

“Which means what, precisely?” There was absolutely no give in her voice. 

“Only that you do not consider the name we know you by as your own,” came the calm response, which was news to Baze, but it did somewhat explain her overreaction to Chirrut’s prodding. “I would not ask your reasons, nor demand that you share whatever you consider your true name to be. I only wished to inform you that should you ever decide to share your true name with us, we at least will not judge you for it, no matter what it may be.”

Before Baze could grunt that he might have a different reaction, Chirrut’s staff slipped off his shoulder and smacked Baze lightly on his pauldron - too lightly to be felt through the tough durasteel, but hard enough to ring noticeably against the material. Baze rumbled moodily at him, knowing it for the light chastisement that it was. The point was moot anyway. Either she would tell them, or she wouldn’t, and from the scowl darkening her face, the latter option was looking far more likely.  

A high pitched beeping broke into their standoff, coming from a console just outside the cockpit.. Tanith reacted first, throwing Baze a warning glare before moving to investigate just what was happening. Baze wanted to know as well, and after giving Chirrut the two taps on the arm that told him to stay put for the moment - not that Chirrut bothered following that instruction with any regularity - moved to where he could see the screen over her shoulder.

“Delta-3 shuttle,” Tanith murmured, looking at the silhouette visible on the U-wing’s scanner, which - for a wonder - was somehow still functioning. “That’s… that’s not good.”

Baze didn’t recognize the model, or the significance. But he didn’t need the (literal) poke from Chirrut to realize that Tanith did. “How so?” he asked.

Tanith tapped at the display, enlarging the image. “I don’t have many contacts offworld,” she began, like Baze had any clue as to what she was alluding to. “But one of them works at the Kuat Drive Yards. According to her, the Delta-3 shuttle is a prototype craft that only just rolled off the design floor. More versatile than even the prestigious Lambda class - it can fit into spaces that most Imperial vessels simply can’t accommodate. There are meant to be only three examples in active service - most of the Empire doesn’t even know it exists. So if someone is flying one into Eadu, they have to be extremely high up in Imperial R&D.”  she turned to level Baze with a significant look. “Care to guess as to exactly which top secret research goes on at this lab?”

Baze caught her meaning immediately. He thought of his last, brief glimpse of Jedha - of the destruction on such an awesome scale that his mind - even now - shied away from attempting to quantify it. Tanith had said that a new Imperial Weapon had done it. And one of the fundamental truths about weapons was that, aside from a few occasions and conditions, they did not generally go off all on their own. Someone had fired it. 

He looked back at the image of the shuttle again. Anyone who had enough clout to use a brand-new prototype craft as their personal excursion vessel was high up enough to be in charge of other secret projects. Projects like the weapon that had obliterated the place Baze had called home for the vast majority of his life. 

“Are they -” he couldn’t get the words out past the grief and rage still choking his heart.

“The one who fired the Death Star at Jedha?” Tanith finished, meeting his eyes squarely. “I don’t know. But it is likely.” she drummed her fingers on the console, thinking hard. 

“But even if it’s true, that’s not the real problem, or at least, not yet.” she said slowly. “The real problem is that Cassian’s going to have no warning of this new arrival, even if we had the capability. He’d have silenced his comm, to keep it from activating at the wrong time and blowing his cover. So someone’s going to have to go after him. Warn him.”

Baze read the line of determination cloaking her shoulders, and knew without being told that that someone was going to be her. Which was just as well. He certainly wasn’t going to do it, and there was no way in any kind of hell was he going to suggest they send Chirrut. Tanith might have offered him skira - vengeance against the Empire for the people of Jedha - but vengeance meant that you had to live; at least long enough to see it through. It did no one - least of all the Dead - any good to throw your life away needlessly. 

Halfway to the hatch, Tanith slowed, stopped, then extracted a holochip from somewhere Baze didn’t see in her coat, turning it over reverently in her hands as she walked back toward him. “This is the message I told you about earlier, the one that tells how to defeat the Empire’s weapon.” She looked Baze full in the face as she held it out to him. “In case I don’t make it back, I charge you by your oaths to see it safely to the Alliance,” she said formally, pressing it into Baze’s hand. 

He swallowed harshly, and tried to pass it back. “All my oaths are dead and dust,” he told her, the old bitterness seeping in and making his words far harsher than he’d intended to. 

Tanith only raised a single fine eyebrow, casting a meaningful glance at Chirrut. “I don’t know,” she said lightly. “There seems to be at least one oath you’ve stayed true to.”

Stunned, Baze could only watch in silence as she disappeared through the hatch into the pouring rain. In that instant, that flash of honor recognized and acknowledged, he would have followed her anywhere with joy in his heart, like in the battle songs Pizi would sing to pass the time on long hyperspace journeys, the rest of the Clan adding their voices to hers on the refrains from all around the ship. Songs of history and honor, of the joys that would come from following a true alor’ad to glory through the stars. 

Baze missed the singing; in the way one missed a long-dead childhood pet, or a particular dish that had once been favored, but had not been savored for many years. Pizi and the rest of Clan Malbus had accepted him with open arms, had given him the home and family he’d been craving after the Temple fell, had given him a place to belong after everything he previously could count on had fallen into dust. 

For three months after he’d joined them, Baze had almost been able to convince himself that he was happy. That life as a Mandalorian was everything Pizi, Oren, and Anila had promised it would be when they convinced him to join them. But Chirrut was not a member of the Clan, could never be part of the Clan, and without Chirrut by his side, something in Baze was cracked and broken, bleeding from a small but unhealed wound. A sore spot that could never be precisely located, but which grew larger and more painful the longer Baze kept himself away. 

It had taken a year, Baze remembered with awful clarity. A year for the situation to become unbearable, by which point the only remedy had been obvious to everyone. The Clan had been more understanding than he had dared dream, taking him back to Jedha themselves, allowing him to keep his name and armor, and even leaving him a comcode by which he could call them if he ever needed their help. He’d deleted the comcode in his first free moment, scratched the clan symbols off his armor, and taken up his position guarding Chirrut in the marketplace, all the while knowing and hating what he was, an apostate and an exile, who had abandoned every home and duty expected of him, clinging with everything he had in him to the one thing he could not lose - Chirrut - upon whose breath each day Baze allowed his soul to breathe.  

Now, Baze wanted to follow her, wanted to in a way that he had never wanted to follow anyone, not even Chirrut. It was as if a cord had unspooled from Tanith’s heart that had hooked itself straight into the center of Baze’s chest, and was almost physically dragging him through the hatch already. 

Only one thing locked his feet to the deckplating. Tanith had charged him by his oath to Chirrut to stay back and guard the message, the message that had to get through if Jedha was at all to be avenged. Not only that, but that oath meant that he couldn’t leave Chirrut alone - not if he wanted to keep the last shred of honor left to him. 

Chirrut’s staff pounded a steady rhythm as he paced slowly over to the hatch. There he paused, and glanced back at Baze, lightbow slung over his back and a wicked smile playing over his face. “Well?” he demanded of Baze. “Aren’t you coming?”

Baze wavered, wanting to go, wanting it with every fiber of his being. It wouldn’t even violate his oath, because that oath was to ensure Chirrut’s safety. But the holochip meant that his duties were not only to his partner, that Tanith had trusted him to do what must be done to protect the message, and he was loth to betray that trust. But if he stayed behind to protect it, he would break his oath. 

Ironically it was the droid who provided the final push. “If you are not back by the time Cassian returns, we will leave you behind,” it sniffed from behind him.

Baze halted in his journey toward the threshold, turned around, and thrust the holochip at the droid. “Then here. Keep this safe. For the Alliance.”

Closing his ears to the droid’s startled squawks, Baze jumped out of the hatch after Chirrut, already priming his cannon to fire, the battle fury rising from its long slumber in his veins. For the first time in years, he caught himself humming snatches of battle-song, the half-remembered melodies startling to his unaccustomed ears. Still, regardless of the situation, regardless of the danger, Baze felt more comfortable in his one skin than he had in years, ever since… since the Temple had fallen. 

It wasn’t hard to understand why. For the first time in over a decade, very nearly two, he had a goal, a purpose that went beyond simply keeping Chirrut safe. For the first time in far too many years, Baze Malbus felt gloriously alive.

()()()()()

‘I’m dead,’ Cassian thought numbly as the various lab technicians were herded up to the front of lab personnel by Director Krennic’s personal squad of Deathtroopers. He’d heard about them, the Empire’s most elite troopers, the Empire’s equivalent of the feared ARC clone troopers of his childhood. 

The presence of the Deathtroopers would be bad enough on their own. Not only were their skills significantly more advanced than the standard stormtrooper, but they were few enough in number that the Empire tended to deploy them for absolutely critical assignments. To find an entire squad here, serving as Krennic’s personal bodyguards, spoke volumes as to how highly regarded the Death Star project was in the Empire. But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was that far from ignoring those underlings who made the lab work possible the way Erso had indicated, Krennic had called them all forward, and was questioning all of them personally. The only saving grace was that Cassian had found himself toward the end of the line, and had used the few frantic moments that he’d had to hastily construct a rudimentary identity, one hopefully strong enough to allow him to escape this unexpected inquisition intact.

“And who might you be?” the Director asked too softly, fingers digging hard into Cassian’s chin.

“Jeron Willix, Sir,” Cassian didn’t try to hide his apprehension, mixed it well with the chattering of his teeth from the cold rain, until it became the scarcely concealed terror that an innocent scientist would feel under such circumstances. Cassian buried the first layer of self under the impromptu cover, letting it guide his responses, showing the Empire everything it expected to see from one of it’s drones. 

He held himself there, just on the edge of trembling, until the man released him, stalking a few paces away to seize hold of the next victim in line.  Cassian didn’t fool himself into thinking he was safe, he knew better. Now more than ever, he had to keep himself under control, because it was this moment, more than any other, that led to covers being blown and lives being lost. It was easy, too easy, to relax, to succumb to this false feeling of relief, to let down one’s guard even with the danger not fully past. Krennic himself might have moved on to his next target, but the Deathtroopers were still there, watching with weapons drawn. One twitch wrong, and Cassian - and Erso  - would be dead. 

‘Innocent Imperial who has just had the fright of his life,’ Cassian coached himself, letting the cold rain accentuate his shivers until they were clearly visible to the watching Deathtroopers. Once he knew they were watching him, he took several slow, deep breaths, bringing his hands before his face as if he were trying to warm them with his breath. Only then did he deliberately shake his shoulders before ceasing his trembling, as if he had just gotten his second wind and was now calming himself, sure that the worst was over, and they’d all be let back inside the lab soon. 

Several other technicians - who had also been through Krennic’s cursory interrogation - were covertly watching Cassian, clearly taking their cues as to how they should behave from him. No matter, that shouldn’t be enough to give him away - they were also watching two of their fellows, those who had recovered their self possession even faster than Cassian’s persona. He was as safe as circumstances allowed. 

To his left, Krennic finished with his last victim and stepped back to the center of his line of guards. 

“Since the traitor is unwilling to step forward and declare himself, I find myself with little choice but to treat all of you as equally guilty. Should this misguided soul feel any responsibility toward  those they serve with, they have until the count of five to step forward reveal themselves, saving their fellows.” No one moved. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.” Still no movement. No one seemed to even breathe. 

“So be it.” Krennic pronounced, and Cassian willed himself to stillness. It was out of his hands now. 

“Ready!” Krennic called out to his troops, who leveled their blasters at the front rank of helpless techs. “Aim!” Cassian closed his eyes, knowing what was about to happen, but at the same time willing with every fiber of his being that Erso held onto his nerve and kept silent. At the end of it all, Cassian was expendable, had always been expendable, while Erso’s testimony was critical to the survival of the Alliance. Tanith was still out there, she must have realized that things had gone wrong by this point. She could get Erso and the rest to safety…

Blasterfire derailed his thoughts, but strangely, he didn’t feel any pain. And also… he hadn’t heard Krennic give the order to fire. Feeling more than a little daring, Cassian opened his eyes to see most of the firing squad already on the ground, holes burned through their armor at vital points. As he watched, another Deathtrooper fell, this shot coming in from a slightly different angle, the sound noticeably different in pitch. Lightbow, a disbelieving corner of Cassian’s mind identified. And the shots earlier had come from a blaster cannon. Chirrut and Baze he realized. But there was no more time to think because the surviving troops were starting to react, hustling Krennic back toward his ship and safety, or moving on the offensive to deal with the attackers. 

Cassian didn’t waste the opportunity. The moment the Imperials were distracted, he melted back into the confused crowd of scientists, one hand already reaching for the blaster he’d tucked into an inner pocket of his coveralls. He needed to find Erso and get him out of here, Chirrut and Baze wouldn’t be able to stall the Empire’s troopes forever. Even as the thought crossed his mind, an earsplitting, hollow ‘boom’ rang out just as he’d reached Erso, briefly lighting up the dark sky. Someone must have hit the fuel depot above, Cassian thought blankly as he grabbed Erso and yanked the struggling scientist into the best cover he could wrangle on short notice. 

More blasterfire lit the night, this time coming from the far side of the platform, away from the cliff’s edge. Cassian couldn’t see who it was and honestly didn’t care - the shots were hitting stormtroopers not scientists, so it wasn’t his problem. Then, over all the commotion and uproar, he heard it: 

“Papa!” It was a child’s cry, high and scared, yet still certain beyond all reason that Papa would come and make everything all alright again. Cassian saw Erso stagger under the weight of that cry, saw him flinch as if from a physical blow, before spinning around to find -

Tanith, who had just stepped out from cover at the far side of the platform, her hair wet and straggling about her face. But her gaze was clear and utterly fixed on Erso’s, drinking in his form as he was doing hers. 

“Jyn,” Galen Erso breathed, barely audible over the commotion, but the word still hit Cassian with the force of a slap. Jyn, Jyn Erso, who Tanith had told him was years dead, only clearly that had been a lie. Jyn, daughter of Galen Erso, who could have made this entire operation so much easier if only she had divulged the truth of her identity.

But at least one person hadn’t frozen at this unlikely turn of events. Out of the corner of his eye, Cassian saw Director Krennic shake off his protectors and raise his sidearm, pointing it directly at -

Cassian reeled from the sudden and unexpected blow as Galen Erso exploded into action, lunging out of cover directly toward his daughter. Two blasters fired simultaneously. Two bodies dropped. A stormtrooper, and...

Cassian didn’t have a good vantage point, but he saw enough. He saw the broken form, lying limp on what was left of the platform. And he knew. From the moment Tanith-Jyn let out an anguished wail which quickly devolved into brokenhearted sobbing, Cassian knew without being told just what had happened. And wanted to scream, to shoot, to hit  something - anything! to relieve the impotent fury rising within him, only they still weren’t safe, and none of that would do a damned thing to change what had just happened.

The mission had failed. Galen Erso was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> The life that I have  
> Is all that I have  
> And the life that I have  
> Is yours  
> The Love that I have  
> Of the Life that I have  
> Is yours and yours and yours  
> A sleep I shall have  
> A rest I shall have  
> Yet death will be but a pause  
> For the peace of my years  
> In the long green grass  
> Will be yours and yours and yours
> 
> Poem by Leo Marks. Assigned to Agent Violette Szabo of the British Special Operations Executive (SOE) for use as a code


End file.
